A Tangled Web
by 554Laura
Summary: An AU case fiction set about two years in the future. Booth and Brennan investigate the murder of someone they know, but things are not as they seem. How do all the threads relate? Rated T for language, violence, and adult situations. I don't own the Bones characters in the story, and any resemblance between my created characters and real people is a coincidence.
1. Chapter 1 22 Hickory Lane

" _Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive."_

 _-Sir Walter Scott in his poem Marmion_

FBI Deputy Director Seeley Booth sauntered into his office after returning from a leisurely lunch and casually looked through the stack of folders on his desk. Nothing pressing...just a few loose ends that needed tidying up. He was beginning to like the deputy director's job more than he thought he would. He missed being out in the field doing the intensive legwork required to solve major crimes, but it was nice to be able to sleep peacefully next to his beautiful wife without having to worry so much about being called out in the middle of the night to look at some horrible crime scene, and he was glad he was able to skip slogging through mud, heat, snow or rain just to look at a mangled set of human remains.

He grinned as he started up his computer and watched the screen saver roll across the monitor. The pictures of Bones with Parker, Christine and Hank faded in and out every minute or so. Sometimes he just sat for a few minutes and watched the pictures go by, thanking God one more time for the blessing that was his family. He knew he didn't deserve them, but by God's grace they were his, and he considered himself to be one very lucky man.

"Hey, Booth...whatcha' doin'?" Aubrey stood in the doorway of Booth's new office. "Taking in the scenery, I see." He nodded at the monitor. "Very nice. Hey, listen...I wanted to ask you some questions about that murder case involving the body that was found at the landfill day before yesterday."

"What? The new Special Agent in Charge needs help? I'm surprised at you, Aubrey." Booth grinned as he pointed to the chair across from him. "Seriously, what's up?"

"Well, you've been out to the landfill to look at crime scenes, right? It's huge...several acres, I guess, and there's all this garbage and other shit out there, and trying to figure out what's part of the crime scene and what's just trash is a major problem…"

"Did you talk to the squints? I mean, the squints other than Jessica?" Booth laughed as he saw Aubrey's faint blush. "Hey, I get it...she's really cute, and she probably thinks you're really special, too, right? That's not the point. You need to talk to the guys that are working with Hodgins. He may not be able to actually go out to the landfill physically, but the Jeffersonian techs can take their tablets and skype some pictures back to him, and he'd be able to direct them as far as what's good stuff and what's trash. Or maybe you could just set up a perimeter and collect everything within it." Booth snickered as he noticed how Aubrey cringed at that suggestion. "Yeah, the landfill is nasty, isn't?"

"Yeah...the smell is the worst part. I mean, it was really hot out there yesterday, and the smell was so bad I couldn't even eat lunch after being out there."

"Jesus… _you_ couldn't eat?" Booth was in shock. "That's rough. I guess you're gonna be earning that big raise you got with your promotion, huh? New office, new job, more responsibility, and more dirty work. Just another day in Paradise, right?"

Booth and Aubrey laughed and talked a few minutes more until Aubrey rose to leave. "I gotta get back to the mines, Booth. Thanks for the help. I'll go talk to Hodgins and see what he recommends."

Booth's phone rang just as Aubrey was about to leave. "Booth...yeah...hang on a minute." He covered the phone with his hand as he spoke to Aubrey. "Hey, don't leave yet. I might need you."

Returning to the phone call, Booth jotted down notes as he spoke to the caller. "Okay. Yes, I understand. 22 Hickory Lane, in the Heights. Twenty minutes. Got it." He handed the slip of paper to Aubrey. "Metro wants us to take over this case. They say the victim may be well known, and they're not…"

"...equipped to handle that sort of publicity." Aubrey scowled as he read the slip of paper. "I guess I'll get McAnally and Lopez to go out to the crime scene. They're both pretty laid back...They're excellent investigators and I think they can probably deal with all the publicity in this case as well as anybody."

"Ask them to meet us over there as soon as they can. I gotta call Cam and get some squints out there, too."

"Meet 'us' there?" Aubrey narrowed his eyes as he watch Booth make his phone call and shut down his computer. "What the hell does that mean? Wait...you're not serious…" Aubrey slumped back into his chair. "Really?"

"Well, I hate to tell you this, Aubrey, but…" Booth gave Aubrey a sheepish look. "The guys upstairs actually requested that I oversee this investigation personally." Booth shrugged his shoulders as he saw Aubrey's amazement. "I know...deputy directors aren't supposed to be in the field conducting investigations. They're supposed to stay in the office and keep their hands clean, right? But this request came from on high, so it's not like I can turn it down."

"Great." Aubrey rolled his eyes and pretended to be upset as he stood with his hands stuck in his pockets. "Look, it's not my fault I haven't been the Special Agent in Charge for very long. It took me forever to kick your ass out of that office so I could get the promotion, Booth. Now they're gonna claim I don't have enough experience!"

"It took awhile because I had to make sure you were ready to take over my job. I couldn't turn it over to somebody incompetent, could I? The Major Crimes Unit has a reputation to uphold!" Booth chuckled as he grabbed his phone and his jacket. "We'd better get going if we're going to beat the traffic…"

"We? You want me to go with you?" Aubrey was now thoroughly confused. "I thought…"

Booth interrupted. "I'm out of practice. I'm gonna need someone to help keep me organized and I definitely need someone to translate squint speak. How about I just be the lead investigator in name only and you run the show? Will that work? Do you have time to go with me?"

"Sure, I guess so, if nobody else cares." Aubrey pulled out his phone. "Just let me send a text...Jess was expecting me to come for dinner tonight, so I wanna let her know I might be late."

"When are you gonna marry that girl, Aubrey? Jeez...long courtships suck. Trust me on that one..." Booth pressed the down elevator button as he chuckled at his friend. "What's the problem? Which one of you has cold feet?"

"What are you, my grandmother, Booth?" Aubrey grinned as they stepped into the elevator. "Jessica wants to make sure she's set in her career before we make any sort of permanent commitment. She'll have her doctorate in a few months, if she passes her orals, and she's hoping to get a job in the DC area, but if not…"

"If not, you're gonna transfer to where her job is, and leave me high and dry with no well-trained special agent in charge, right?"

Aubrey shrugged a shoulder as he watched the floor numbers change over the elevator door. "I have no idea what's gonna happen. We'll just have to wait and see…but we don't have to worry about that today. Let's go see what's happening at 22 Hickory Lane, okay?"

Booth smirked as the elevator doors opened. "Whatever you say, Special Agent in Charge Aubrey...whatever you say…."

oooooooooo

Booth turned the SUV onto a tree lined residential street that meandered through an expanse of expensive, well maintained homes. The neighborhood looked like something out of a fairy tale. Large Victorian style houses painted in cheerful colors flaunted their gingerbread trim, complete with curlicues and window boxes brimming with bright flowers. The well manicured lawns boasted fountains and perfectly shaped trees and hedges. Who would ever expect that this genteel part of town would experience a crime of this magnitude?

It was obvious which house was 22 Hickory Lane. Two police cars, an FBI style SUV and an ambulance were parked in the broad driveway. The Jeffersonian truck was parked in the street in front of the house. Several people stood on the sidewalk across the street, shocked that something so horrible could happen in their pleasant little corner of the world. Booth parked the SUV, and strolled up the front walk toward the rambling yellow house. Aubrey wore a grim expression as he walked next to Booth. "This is not what I was expecting. It's such a nice neighborhood…I mean, it's a beautiful house with a porch swing and nice potted geraniums..."

"Yeah, I know, but murders can happen anywhere.", Booth said sadly. They gave a small wave to a uniformed officer walking past them to the squad car. "People think they're safe if they live in a swanky gated community or a nice part of town like this, but a lot of murders are committed by people who know each other instead of some random stranger."

Walking up the steps to the expansive porch, Aubrey spoke to Agent Mateo Lopez. "Glad you could get here so quickly. You remember Deputy Director Booth, right? He's going to be coordinating our investigation." The two men shook hands as Aubrey peered over Lopez's shoulder, trying to look into the house through the open front door. "Where's McAnally?"

Lopez raised his eyebrows as he shook his head. "Don't tell her I told you...She's not doing too well right now, Boss. The crime scene is really grisly, and with her being pregnant...she's heaving her guts up behind the house." Lopez sighed as he wiped his eyes with his knuckle. "It was all I could do to hold it together myself…."

Booth and Aubrey stood silently for a minute so that Lopez could regain his control. Finally, he nodded and inhaled slowly. "Here's what we know. The house is owned by Senator William Camden, but it appears that he doesn't live here, at least not full time. Most of the clothing and shoes in the closet are for a woman, as well as most of the toiletries in the bathroom off the master bedroom. Metro thought at first that the victim was killed because someone thought she was an intruder, but it doesn't appear that there was a forced entry so now they're leaning more toward a home invasion gone wrong." Lopez pointed out the door frame around the lock. "No damage here...she probably knew her killer...maybe even let him in. They don't think it was a robbery, because she's still wearing some expensive jewelry. The locals are passing the case on to us because the house belongs to a US Senator." Hearing a faint sound behind him, Lopez turned and smiled gently at his partner. "Feeling better, Cindy? You still look a little pale."

Cindy McAnally tried to smile weakly as she gingerly walked over to the group of agents. "I'll be okay in about seven months. Hey, Boss...sorry about that, but it's awful in there…I've been feeling queasy anyway, and that was just too much..."

"I understand. Don't worry about it." Aubrey looked toward the house again. "By the way, McAnally, you've met Deputy Director Booth, right?" After they shook hands, Booth gestured toward the house.

"Have the FBI techs started recovering evidence from the scene yet, Agent Lopez? I'd expect there to be a lot more people filing in and out. Hey…" Booth waved at a police officer directing traffic in front of the house. "You can let the ambulance go back to the station. The Jeffersonian will arrange for transport of the remains."

Lopez nodded over his shoulder toward the house. "The techs are working on establishing who owns the house, searching the rooms other than the one where the body was found, looking for trace and fingerprints...stuff like that. The house has security monitoring with an off site company, so we'll talk to them about any information they might have about the alarm going off. I think they've turned the recovery of any evidence in conjunction with the body over to the Jeffersonian. The body is in bad shape, and determining the identity of the victim may be difficult."

An ashen McAnally exhaled heavily and groaned softly, looking as if she was going to vomit again. "Mateo…" She shook her head and walked away.

"Right. I'll take care of it, Cindy. If you'll come with me, gentlemen, I'll show you what we've got inside…"

They entered the massive set of double doors at the front of the house and walked through a marble foyer into what was probably the formal living room. The elegant navy blue and cream furnishings stood in stark contrast to the tools and equipment being moved in and out as the crime scene was being examined. They could hear the keening wail of a woman in another room as they walked toward the formal dining room. Booth and Aubrey made their way over to a group of scientists wearing the Jeffersonian logo.

"Hey, Cam. What can you tell me?" Booth pulled his notecards out of his jacket pocket and got his pen ready, when something caught his eye. _That hair color is so familiar and that ring...it looks like...no, it couldn't be._..he shook his gut feelings off and listened intently as Cam elaborated on the team's findings.

Cam stood up and glanced over her shoulder at the body behind her. "Female. Mid thirties, maybe early forties, Caucasian. She was discovered by her housekeeper about two hours ago." Cam pinched her lips together, evidently trying to find a delicate way to describe the injuries, but finding none, she continued quietly. "It appears that she took a massive blast to the face from some sort of high powered shotgun. There's not much left of it…"

She turned slightly toward the body as Booth and Aubrey stepped forward. The victim lay on her back, her hands across her body in a defensive posture, but the ends of the fingers had been cut off from her hands. Her lower jaw was still present, but there was a bloody gaping hole where her upper lip, nose, and eyes should've been. What was left of her forehead formed the upper margin of the hole. Even though some of the victim's long blonde hair was intact on top of her head, it was obvious that the back of her skull had been obliterated by the weapon's blast. The walls, furniture, and carpeting in the dining room were covered with the remnants of the explosion in the victim's skull. Blood and blood vessels, shards of bone, cartilage, and brain matter seemed to cover every exposed surface around her body.

"Jesus Christ." Aubrey turned away from the horrible sight as he tried to maintain his composure. He was a Special Agent in Charge, and he couldn't let crime scenes like this get the best of him, but this was one of the most awful things he'd ever witnessed. He inhaled sharply and waited until the wave of nausea rolled past before he asked his next question. "How long ago?"

Cam nodded toward the kitchen where the housekeeper was being interviewed. "Mrs. Jordan says she was here yesterday morning and things were fine. She tried to call this morning because she'd forgotten something here at the house, but there was no answer. Since she was in the area this afternoon she stopped by to get it. The alarm was turned off and the front door was ajar. Unfortunately, this is what she found when she entered the dining room. Given the way the blood has begun to dry, I'd say...late last night or early this morning." She glanced over at the Deputy Director, who seemed to be uneasy. "Booth...are you okay?"

He shook his head, trying to fight off the horror he felt, but he knew it was no use. There was no way to avoid it. He thought he recognized the general shape of her face and the hair color, but that ring...that ring was what sold it. He was trembling violently as he grabbed the back of the chair next to him, trying to keep from passing out. "Cam, I need you to check the victim's right hip, about halfway down, on the cheek. Is there a blue butterfly tattoo, about the size of a half dollar?"

Aubrey glanced at Booth and saw how distraught he was by the crime scene. _That's not like him at all. He's seen some pretty awful stuff working with Dr. B, but he's really pale and very shaky. Something's up._ Then it occurred to him… _He knows her. He knows the victim from somewhere..._

"Yes, here it is…." Cam looked up at Booth, shocked to see him so pale and unsteady, swaying slightly and perspiring profusely.

"Is there a blue script capital H below the butterfly?" _Please, God, no…_

"Yes…Booth, do you know who this is?" Cam sat back on her haunches watching her friend as he gripped the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white, trying to keep from falling over.

Booth felt his knees buckle, and he sat clumsily in the chair, clearly stunned at what he believed to be true. Finally he whispered, "Oh, my God. I think...this….this is...Hannah...Hannah Burley."

oooooooooo

The spectators across the street from 22 Hickory Lane milled about on the sidewalk, trying to find out what had happened to their neighbor. Most of them were very upset as they tried to get information about what had happened, being unwilling or unable to comprehend what was taking place in the pleasant house across the street. They watched as police cars and vans from news stations came and went, and realized, to their dismay, that something appalling had happened in the sunny yellow house with the beautiful geraniums on the front porch. They stood gaping or with their hands covering their mouths, trying to recover their sense of complacency as they wiped their tears away.

All except one. That one spectator stood off away from everyone else, watching in great interest and smiling with satisfaction. Step one of the plan was complete, and had been quite successful. The trap was set, and now the fun was about to begin….

oooooooooo

 _If you have time to review, that would be great...would you like to read more?_


	2. Chapter 2 Unexpected Information

Brennan drove down the beautiful tree lined street and parked her car in front of the rambling yellow house at 22 Hickory Lane. She got out quickly, and, intent on her mission, she strode up to the broad front porch without stopping to speak to anyone. Flashing her credentials at the uniformed officer, she pushed through the front doors and walked toward the back of the house to the formal dining room where members of the Jeffersonian team were gathering evidence as they prepared the body for transport. She glanced toward the corpse as the technicians began to zip the body bag around it and quickly looked away, somewhat surprised at how upset she felt. It was hard to imagine that those remains used to be the vivacious news reporter that millions of people watched on network television every evening. This was someone Brennan had known personally…and now Hannah was gone...

"Cam? Where is he?" Breathless from exertion and worry, Brennan bounced on the balls of her feet as she looked around the room and then at Cam, who was on her haunches next to a puddle of blood. "Where's Booth? I need to see him immediately. Please tell me where he is..."

"Booth's in the kitchen. He's still pretty shaken up, and he'll probably be mad as hell that I called you…" Cam grimaced as she shrugged at Brennan…"but I figured you're going to be the one who can help him the most right now." She stood up and looked past Brennan toward the kitchen. "I don't think I've seen him this upset in years, except maybe that time you were shot with that blood bullet at the Jeffersonian…" Cam's voice trailed off and she looked embarrassed, wondering if she might've said something wrong, but Brennan seemed unconcerned about it.

"I understand. Thank you for calling me…" Brennan turned and was trying to make her way through the crowd of investigators when she heard someone calling out to her.

"Dr. B...what are you doing here?" Special Agent Aubrey waved at her from across the room. "The body isn't the kind you usually work on…" He came across the room to where she was standing, glancing at the body bag, clearly still disturbed by the state of the remains. "There's lots of flesh…"

"Oh, hello, Agent Aubrey. It's quite alright. Dr. Saroyan called me. She said that Booth thinks the victim might be Hannah Burley and that he was extremely agitated. Is he in the kitchen?"

"Actually, he's out on the back porch getting some fresh air. He was really upset, and kind of shaky, but I think he's better now…" He watched as Brennan passed through the French doors that led outside, and then called after her. "I'm not sure that talking to him about the murder is a good idea right now…he said he wanted some time and space..."

"Booth?" Brennan walked to the side of the house and peered around the corner. "Are you out here, Booth?" Finally she saw him sitting on a bench under a large tree in the pleasant backyard and she walked across the yard to join him.

"Hey, Bones.", he said softly, without looking up at her. Rubbing his eyes, he shuddered a bit. "Dammit! I knew Cam was gonna call you. Look, I really don't need someone to rescue me. I'm just fine, okay? It's not like I'm some little kid that needs his Mommy. I'm a grown man, and this is what I have to do for my job. I can handle it, alright? We've seen a lot worse on some of the cases we've had together..."

Putting her hands on her hips, Brennan tilted her head to one side and rolled her eyes at her husband. "I know you're fine, Booth, but Cam was concerned about you. She said you were extremely agitated and that you might need some comforting, so I came out here to find you. I don't understand why you would be unhappy about that. As your wife, that's part of my job, correct? I'm supposed to comfort you during the difficult times that occur in your life."

He chuckled a bit at her description of a wife's job in spite of himself, but it was obvious that he was still angry about Cam's phone call. "I'm upset because I'm a Deputy Director with the FBI, that's why. I don't need the cavalry to ride after me just because I got a little queasy and shed a few tears when I looked at a dead body." Booth closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree. "God, I feel like a failure, breaking down like that in front of everybody..."

"Booth, I'm here to help you. You're not a failure. Your body had a bad reaction to the horrible nature of the crime scene. That's all. It was a terrible sight. You're allowed to react like a normal person. You're not expected to be a superhero."

"I know. It's just...I guess you heard who the victim is…" He pinched his lips together and sighed sadly. "Jesus…I can't believe it, you know? I didn't even know she had moved back to DC. I thought she still lived in New York City. That's where that nightly newscast that she did originates." He sniffled a bit as he patted the empty space on the bench next to him. "Join me?"

"I know it's hard to understand when someone we know dies unexpectedly, and especially so when it's someone as young and vibrant as Hannah." Sitting next to Booth on the bench, Brennan patted his knee as she leaned against him. "And, of course, these circumstances make it even more difficult to comprehend." She kissed her husband gently on the cheek and laid her head on his shoulder. "Are you positive it's Hannah, Booth? Given the state of the body, it's going to be hard to tell without doing a DNA test. Maybe it's not her after all."

Booth put his arm around his wife and gave her a gentle squeeze. "Thanks for trying to make me feel better, Bones, but I know it was Hannah. There were the tattoos...and her jewelry. It was her ring that sealed the deal...she told me her father gave her that sapphire ring we found on the body right before he skipped out on her and her mother. She didn't wear it often, because it didn't really fit her finger well since the stone was so large, but I still recognized it. Her father had it custom made for her. It was her birthstone..." Booth turned and looked at Brennan with a soulful expression in his eyes, realizing once again how fortunate he was to have her as his wife. He pulled her closer into his embrace as he shed a few more tears. "I love you so much, Bones. God, I'm still shaky. Some FBI guy I am...Deputy Director, my ass. What an amateur...I almost passed out in there because the crime scene was so bad, and then when I realized who it was.." Booth tilted his wife's chin so he could look into her eyes. "I just lost my shit in there...but...um...I hope...you...you know that it wasn't because...I still...I still loved her, or anything like that, right? You know I didn't care about her like that anymore. Because, Bones, you're the only one for me…always have been…always will be...you know that, right?"

Brennan smiled gently as she reached up to caress his cheek. "Of course I know that, Booth. I know you love me, and you know I love you. Your reaction to the present situation is quite understandable. At one time you had an intense emotional relationship with Hannah, and since you proposed marriage to her…"

"Jesus...do you have to bring that up now?" Booth groaned as he thought about that part of his past. "Seriously?"

"Yes, Booth, I do. It explains why you reacted as you did. I know you were not currently involved in any sort of romantic relationship with Hannah, but when you were involved with her, your relationship was quite intimate and very intense, so of course you would have a very strong reaction to her death, no matter how it occurred, but even more so since she was murdered. The combination of shock and adrenaline was probably more than your system could handle at the time, so you felt nauseated and weak, and the stress of the situation caused you to cry. It's a perfectly reasonable explanation...all absolutely normal."

Looking out across the yard, Booth pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah...perfectly normal, I guess. I guess it's perfectly normal to feel like shit when the person who gets murdered is someone you know, right?" He sighed as he stood up and stretched. "Let's go back up to the house and see what Aubrey's found out so far." He grinned at Brennan as he gently pulled her up from the bench. "Don't say anything to him, but I'm really proud of Aubrey. He's gonna be great as the Special Agent in Charge."

Booth and Brennan walked hand in hand through the yard and found Aubrey waiting for them on the back porch. "Hey, Booth, if you feel like it, McAnally wants you to talk to Mrs. Jordan, the housekeeper. They're in the breakfast room…." Booth nodded in response and he and Brennan walked into the large, welcoming breakfast room behind the kitchen.

"Director Booth...Dr. Brennan, it's good to see you again." Agent McAnally rose from the kitchen table where she had been sitting with the housekeeper. "Mrs. Jordan would like a word with you." She nodded toward the rumpled middle aged woman sitting at the table, who was dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief as she mumbled to herself in what sounded like Russian. "I'm not sure she's making much sense right now, but…"

Booth raised his hand to interrupt McAnally's apology. "It's fine. I don't mind." Booth took his pen and notecards out of his jacket pocket as he sat down across from the housekeeper. Patting her hand, he spoke soothingly to the woman.

"I'm Deputy Director Booth, Mrs. Jordan, and this is my associate, Dr. Brennan. We're sorry you're so upset, ma'am. I understand that it's a terrible situation, finding the body like you did. Agent McAnally says you have some information for me that might help us find out what happened. I'd like to hear what you have to tell me, if you feel up to it, and maybe you could answer a few questions for us. It would help us a lot in our investigation if you could do that..."

Mrs. Jordan drew a sharp breath between sobs, trying to compose herself enough to speak. She wiped her eyes as she stared at the table in front of her, twisting her handkerchief in her hands and sniffling loudly. Finally she composed herself somewhat and began to speak in heavily accented English. "Mrs. Hannah was scared of a man, but not the Senator. The Senator is a good man." Mrs. Jordan's lower lip trembled as she traced circles on the table with her fingers. "She showed me this picture of a man, said if the man came to the door, to call the police and to hide, not to answer the door. She said he was very bad, that he would hurt her."

Booth smiled gently and spoke in a soothing voice, hoping to calm the housekeeper. "Have you seen that bad man around here? Did you have to call the police?"

"No, not me. Mrs. Hannah said last night she wasn't worried so much anymore, and I think it is why she is dead...she stopped the worry." Mrs. Jordan sobbed again. "So when I came today, I was scared for her. She didn't answer when I called the phone. She didn't answer the door but it was open...I came in…no alarm was turned on." Booth could see the horror in the housekeeper's eyes as she remembered finding the body that afternoon. "And where is Seejay? Where is the little boy? Is he gone? She would not give her baby up…"

Booth glanced up at McAnally, who shrugged and shook her head. "Mrs. Hannah had a child, Mrs. Jordan? Was the senator the father of the child?"

"Mrs. Hannah had the little boy with her when she moved into the house a year ago. I do not think Senator Camden is the child's father...maybe more like grandfather? Mrs. Hannah and the Senator were not married."

Brennan spoke up quietly. "If they weren't married, why did you call your employer Mrs. Hannah? That doesn't make any sense…"

Booth rolled his eyes at his wife and turned back to the housekeeper. "Tell us about the child, please. How old is he, and what does Seejay stand for?"

"She asked me to call her Mrs. Hannah, ma'am. She never told me her last name. I didn't know why. The little boy is seven or eight, I think...He was born in New York to be American. It was easier to get his papers in US, but I think she went back to England later, before she came to DC. She never married his father. She said the father didn't know about his son, but she would tell him soon...in the next few weeks maybe."

"Was the boy's father the man she was afraid of?" Booth sat back in his chair and watched the housekeeper's reaction, trying to determine if she was telling him the truth.

"No. She was going to tell the father to get help for her boy...to protect him from the bad man. She said the father was a kind man and he would help her. The senator let her live here to stay safe." Mrs. Jordan sobbed again. "Poor Mrs. Hannah. She was so beautiful and so kind to me. She helped me learn to talk in English. She spoke some Russian, too. Is the little boy hiding here in the house? Have the policemen looked in all of the closets and outside in the garden? He likes to play hide go seek…"

Booth flicked his eyes at McAnally, who nodded in understanding. She left the room quietly to begin searching the house and grounds again.

"What does the nickname Seejay stand for, Mrs. Jordan? What is the little boy's real name? Is there a picture that we can look at?" Booth fidgeted with his pen as the older woman blew her nose and wiped her eyes again. _Jesus...this must be horrible for her...coming into the house and finding Hannah like that...trying to tell us what happened...worried about the little boy..._

Mrs. Jordan nodded and smiled sadly as she reached for her purse. She took out her wallet and looked through several of the plastic picture folders it held before she stopped and removed a photograph from a slot and laid it on the table in front of Booth and Brennan. "This is Seejay."

In the picture Hannah sat smiling happily, holding a laughing boy on her lap. It was hard to see them both so happy, knowing the things that had happened just a few hours ago. Booth picked up the picture and stared at it thoughtfully before turning it over. "When was this taken?"

"About six months ago, at the elementary school carnival…"

"Booth…" Brennan sighed out his name as she ran her fingers over the picture. "The boy in this photograph...he looks like…" She paused as she glanced toward the housekeeper. "Mrs. Jordan, may I borrow this picture, please? I will return it to you unharmed..."

Mrs. Jordan nodded as she dabbed his eyes. "Yes, of course, if it will help you find Seejay…."

"We appreciate your time, Mrs. Jordan." Booth smiled at her kindly as he sorted through his notecards. He smiled again as he handed her a business card. "I know this was difficult for you. If you can think of anything else, please call me at this number."

The distraught woman rose from her chair, and sniffled again loudly. "Yes. Please find Seejay...poor little boy…"

Realizing they still hadn't learned the boy's given name, Booth cleared his throat slightly and asked again. "Mrs. Jordan, what does Seejay stand for?"

"Seejay is what the boy calls himself...but the boy's full name is Seeley Joseph Booth, Junior. An odd name, you think?"

Brennan gasped audibly, and started to say something, but she saw Booth shake his head very slightly at her as he raised his hand to interrupt her. "Thank you, Mrs. Jordan. If you speak with Agent Lopez outside, he can arrange for someone to take you home."

Brennan made sure Mrs. Jordan was out of earshot before she turned back to her husband. "Booth...", she whispered.

"I know...except for the hair color, he looks just like Parker, doesn't he?" The boy had dark brown hair and deep set dark brown eyes. The broad, slightly lopsided smile on his face showed a dimple on each cheek. Even though he was young, it wasn't hard to see the boy would have prominent zygomatic arches and a masculine mandible with a prominent mental protuberance, and his facial features were quite symmetrical. "Is it possible, Bones? How can this be? God...Could Seejay be my son?"

"I don't know, Booth...the time and place of birth make is seem that way, but it could just be a coincidence…"

Booth bit his lower lip, trying to decide what to believe. "It would be only hell of a coincidence, wouldn't it? Jesus...I don't know what to think…and where could he be…?" They rose from the kitchen table, and went to find Aubrey to fill him in on what they had found out.

oooooooooo

It was much later in the evening when Mrs. Jordan walked through a dimly lit park and sat down on a bench. She waited a few minutes until she was joined by someone who had slipped quietly through the shadows to sit next to her.

"Well? How did it go, Nataliya? Did they believe you?"

"Of course." Her Russian accent was barely noticeable now. "You know I was an acclaimed actress in my former country. To think I have to do such menial housecleaning work here because the man I married is so lazy! It is beneath me! Now everyone will know my talent. I will be a great actress again. I will be famous in America as well."

"You're right, of course. You'll be famous...and people will know your name. You gave the FBI agents the picture? How did they react?"

Nataliya gave her companion a conspiratorial smile. "It was obvious they knew it looked like the man in question. They were tremendously shocked. You were correct. They had no idea. How did you know that man would come to the house today? Someone in his position usually doesn't get involved in investigations."

There was a raspy chuckle as her companion explained. "It was easy. I had the Senator call his superiors to request him. It's all part of the plan."

"Well, it seems that your plan is going to be successful. Now...about my money...Time to pay up." Mrs. Jordan held out her hand expectantly.

"It's all here in this envelope. You can count it if you want…"

"It's not necessary. I trust you. Nice doing business with you." She stood up and smiled. "Good night." Turning to walk away, she was blithely unaware of the pistol aimed at her back until the first shot entered her spine silently. She crumpled to the ground, paralyzed, as the shadowy figure took aim at her again. A second shot entered her heart, and her life began to ebb away into a spreading puddle of blood.

The figure nonchalantly bent over the woman's body to retrieve the envelope, and spoke calmly to the dying woman. "Trusting me was not a good idea...but at least now people will know your name, won't they, Nataliya darling?"

oooooooooo

 _If you have time to leave a review, that would be great..._


	3. Chapter 3 Pembroke Park

"Oh, hi, Sweetie. What's up?" Angela came bustling into her office early the next morning and found an anxious Brennan waiting for her impatiently. "Hey...you look upset. Are you okay? What's wrong?" Angela's smile quickly turned into a frown of concern as she joined Brennan on the sofa. "Brennan, tell me...what's going on?"

Brennan had planned to remain calm, logical and rational as she explained the situation to her friend, but she couldn't stop a few tears from running down her cheek as she tried to smile. "Actually, Angela, I don't know for sure if anything is wrong. Things may be absolutely correct, but I need to do some research to find out…and I need your help, please." Brennan chewed on the inside of her lip for a second. "I want you to look at a picture for me. I need to know if it's an actual photograph, or if it was made with some sort of program on a computer." She handed Angela the picture she had borrowed from the housekeeper the day before. "Do you remember when we worked on the remains from that slave ship, the Amalia Rose, and we found the remains of a more recent decedent in the wreck? We took the picture of him as a grown man and changed the proportions to that of a child, using one of your computer programs, so we could more easily ascertain his identity."

"Yes, I remember. We used average proportions for male children of a certain age and changed the ratio of the skull to the face and the length of the jaw...things like that. Why?"

"I want you to do the same thing with another picture." Brennan closed her eyes and shuddered slightly. "I want to find out…if that picture was made by altering a picture of the adult Booth. Here's a picture of Booth I took a few weeks ago..."

Angela was shocked as she looked at the two people in the borrowed photograph more closely. "Wow...this looks just like...it can't be, can it?" Looking at Brennan in surprise, Angela continued softly. "This is Hannah, right? And the little boy in this picture looks just like...oh, Sweetie…"

"The child in that photograph looks very much like Parker, and therefore, very much like Booth. He would be approximately the right age to be one of Booth's progeny if he and Hannah had conceived a child together. The housekeeper told us that Hannah had never told the boy's father about giving birth to the child, so if the child is Booth's son she never told him of the child's existence."

"And now Hannah is dead, and the truth may have died with her…"

"Yes, and not only that, the child seems to be missing as well." Brennan sniffled a little bit and wiped away another tear. "There was some evidence of a child living in the house...clothes, books, toys...things like that, but something didn't seem right. There were no other pictures of him...no drawings by children, no clutter, no dirty hand prints on the walls…after having children of my own, I think the house felt too neat...too perfect."

"You're going on your gut, aren't you?" Angela smiled faintly as she watched Brennan run her fingers over the recent photograph of Booth. Studying her friend closely, Angela ventured to more tenuous topics. "Are you going to be upset if Booth had a child with Hannah, Sweetie?"

"Of course not, Angela. That wouldn't be rational. Booth was in a romantic relationship with Hannah for several months, and they were extremely active sexually. I wasn't privy to their birth control arrangements, although I'm sure they must have been using something to prevent an unwanted pregnancy. However, Booth's semen is exceptional...his sperm count is extremely high, and…" Brennan paused as she noticed Angela's raised eyebrow. "If Hannah did become pregnant with Booth's child, she kept it from him. It isn't as if he was hiding something from me all this time, or that he was unfaithful to me. This child's conception would have occurred before Booth and I began our monogamous relationship."

"Brennan, finding out that Booth had another child would be a shock no matter what the circumstances were, but with Hannah being murdered…"

"I know...you're right. I just want to make sure this is an actual photograph of a child that would belong to them, and not a simulated photograph. It looks so much like Booth...there is very little of Hannah's bone structure evident in the child's face." Brennan brushed another tear away and sighed. "Booth is frantic, thinking that he may have a child that he's never met, that he knew nothing about...a child that he can't find, who might be in danger...a child whose mother, someone that Booth once loved deeply, has been murdered in a gruesome manner. I'm upset because Booth is in so much pain as he tries to determine what has occurred. I'm hoping that we can determine somehow if this child actually exists. Maybe if we can find out if this picture was photoshopped, Booth could have some peace of mind..." She took another photograph out of her purse. "This is a picture of Booth as a child, and you can see they seem to share several similar facial characteristics. I really don't know what to think…"

Angela patted Brennan's knee. "I know, Sweetie. I tell you what...let's scan these pictures into my computer and see what we can find out, okay?" Angela quickly ran the pictures through her scanner and walked over to her computer screen to pull up the newly scanned images. "I'm just going to play with the images a bit…try to superimpose them on each other...maybe I'll try matching loci on the face...the cheekbones do seem very similar..."

"Is there a part of your program that would allow us to get an idea of what a child produced by Booth and Hannah would look like? Can you do some possible combinations based on genetic probability? Perhaps we could determine what the most probably phenotype of the child would be."

"Do you mean, can I make up some pictures of a child by combining pictures of Booth and Hannah? I think so, but we'll have to tweak some things." Angela glanced at Brennan as she came over to look at the screen. "One way or the other, we'll figure this out, Bren. We'll get an answer for Booth...you'll see." Reaching out, Angela gave Brennan a gentle hug. "I'm sorry you have to go through this…"

"Thanks for being such a good friend to Booth and me, Angela." Brennan finally was able to give Angela a real smile. "We appreciate you so much."

Oooooooooo

"Hey, Booth. What's going on?" Aubrey found Booth in his office, sitting at his desk, focused intently on his computer monitor. "Booth? Hello…"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry." Booth looked up from his monitor and rubbed his eyes. "I was just trying to look through the birth records for the state of New York from seven to eight years ago to see if I can find any record that may indicate that Hannah Burley gave birth to a son, but it's nearly impossible to find anything that would fit our exact parameters because I don't have enough information. It seems like there were millions of kids born in New York during that time period, and I don't even have a date of birth to go on. Even though the housekeeper told me the child's last name was Booth, it's possible Hannah used the name Burley on a birth certificate, and if she did, she may not have listed the father's name. The housekeeper said Hannah never actually gave anyone her real last name...I knew her as Hannah Burley because that was her news name, but it may not have been her legal name." Booth gave Aubrey a sheepish grin. "We didn't spend a lot of time talking, you know…"

"Yeah, okay." Aubrey tried to shake off his slight embarrassment at Booth's comment about Hannah by changing the subject. "Maybe we can find out if Hannah had some sort of safety deposit box where she kept important papers, like birth certificates and stuff like that. The techs didn't find personal papers or anything like that at the house. Lopez and I are gonna talk to Senator Camden today, so maybe we can get some more detailed information about that kind of thing." Aubrey sat down across from Booth and shook his head. "The whole thing about the house seemed strange to me. It didn't have a lived in feel. It was more like the way that realtors stage a house to sell it, you know? It was too clean...almost too precisely decorated." Aubrey shrugged as he saw Booth smirking at him. "I know. It doesn't make sense. Maybe I'm learning to go with my gut more. Anyway, I'm really more interested in finding out why the senator was letting her live there, apparently rent free. There may be more than meets the eye. From what I know of his reputation, he doesn't strike me as a sugar daddy kind of guy, but on the other hand..." Aubrey paused to answer his phone. "Aubrey...what?! Wow. Yeah, that's really terrible! Awful. Yeah, I'll check into it. Thanks, McAnally. Yeah. I'll get back to you soon. Okay."

"What's wrong, Aubrey?" Booth saw the horrified look on Aubrey's face as he put his phone back in his pocket.

"McAnally says that the body of Ms. Burley's housekeeper, Nataliya Jordan, was found by a jogger in Pembroke Park early this morning. She'd been shot to death...took two bullets in the back. Her purse was still with her, and it seems like nothing had been taken from it. It looks like all of her cash and credit cards were still there...even her car keys."

"Jesus…" Booth exhaled slowly. "Are the Metro guys working the scene?"

"I guess so." Aubrey jammed his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "How strange is that? These murders have to be connected, right? Mrs. Jordan wasn't mugged...she was gunned down in cold blood…It must've happened just a few hours after you talked to her yesterday afternoon..."

Booth nodded. "Yeah…God. I don't know what to think." He logged off from his computer and grabbed his phone, keys, and jacket. "Listen, I've gotta back off on Hannah's murder investigation a little bit since I knew her personally. I think you and Lopez should go ahead and talk to the senator and see what he says about her. McAnally and I are gonna go out to Pembroke Park and see what's going on with the locals...make sure they don't miss anything at the crime scene, you know? I'm gonna call the lab and try to get Cam to meet us out there. We can meet up later and compare notes."

"Right. Good luck, Booth…"

Oooooooooo

"Ready to go, McAnally?" Booth stood hovering over Agent McAnally's desk, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for her to collect her belongings. "I've already called the Jeffersonian, and Dr. Saroyan is going to bring a team and meet us at the crime scene."

Nodding, Agent McAnally quickly grabbed her badge, phone, and service revolver. "Yes, sir, I'm ready."

The petite blonde agent hurried to follow Booth as he briskly walked through the bullpen to take the elevator down to the parking level. Pushing the row of buttons by the door, he gestured for her to enter the elevator before he did. "Why did the locals call us in on this? It seems like maybe it was a mugging gone wrong from what Aubrey told me. I'm not sure why they called in the big guns." They walked through the parking garage to Booth's SUV.

"Actually, sir…" McAnally chewed her lip nervously as she avoided eye contact with the Deputy Director. "Metro didn't exactly call us about the murder. I called them…"

Booth gave her a sideways glance as he pulled the SUV out of the garage onto the busy street. "So how did that work? You happened to call the locals at just the right time to hear that Mrs. Jordan had been found murdered?" Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. "I think I'm missing part of the story here, aren't I…"

"No, sir. Well, maybe, sir." She gazed out the side window of the SUV and cleared her throat nervously before she continued. "You see, sir...um...my brother Charlie is a homicide detective with the Metro police department. I was calling him this morning to give him a hard time about the basketball game last night...he's a big Notre Dame fan, and they were trounced by Villanova…"

"I know...I'm a Nova fan myself. It was a great game. But what's the point of your story?" Booth was trying hard to be patient, without much success, gesturing for McAnally to continue. "How does this lead us back to the housekeeper?"

"I guess it was dumb luck, sir, because Charlie was the guy who took the call to investigate Mrs. Jordan's murder. It's not like we discuss our cases with each other, sir, because that I know that would be highly unethical, but it just came up when he called me back because he heard about the Burley case on the news last night. He asked me if I thought there was a link between the cases since the park where Mrs. Jordan's body was found is so close to where Ms. Burley was killed, and when I told him that Mrs. Jordan was Ms. Burley's housekeeper, Charlie got really interested in what was going on with our case." McAnally's explanation tumbled out quickly. "I wasn't sure the two cases were connected, but I called Agent Aubrey as soon as I could to let him know what was going on."

"I see." Booth grimaced slightly as he thought about the coincidences linking the cases. "Okay, well, if anyone asks us, we'll just say it was just dumb luck. It'll be easier that way. Your brother was pretty smart to make the connection between the two murders, though. Do you think he's FBI material?"

"My brother? He is pretty smart, sir, but it took him a long time to make detective, and I think he wants to enjoy his accomplishment for a while." McAnally wrinkled her nose a bit. "I can't suggest it to him, sir, because he'd get a bigger head than he already has, but he might listen to you. Of course, he might be resistant to the idea of joining the Bureau because I'd be his superior. He might not like his little sister ordering him around…"

Booth nodded in understanding as he grinned at his passenger. "True. Okay, here we are…" He drove the SUV down a winding trail toward the spot where the Jeffersonian van was parked. They made their way through the small groups of people that were milling around the crime scene, trying to find someone who could fill them in on what had happened. "I'm gonna go talk to Dr. Saroyan. You go find your brother, the detective, and see what his take on the scene is." McAnally nodded her agreement and walked in the direction of the Metro squad cars.

Booth walked over to where Cam were squatting next to the body, pulling his note cards and pen from his jacket pocket. "What've we got here?" He used his pen to gesture toward the body. "Looks like two gunshot wounds to the back." He bent down to look at the victim. "Man, those look like big wounds. Are the bullets still in the body?"

Cam looked up at Booth, squinting against the harsh morning sun. "I think so, but we'll know more once we get the body back to the lab. I think the body must've been moved because we don't seem to have enough blood here, given the size of these wounds. Metro officers have been searching around the park for the likely area of the park where she was shot."

"So what...someone staged the crime scene here? They moved not only the housekeeper's body, but her keys and purse? What kind of sicko would do that...leave her body out like this? You'd think the killer would want to hide her body...it just doesn't make sense." Booth scratched the back of his neck as he looked around the scene. "There definitely isn't enough blood…"

"I don't know, Booth. You're right...it's strange. Hodgins can look at the particulates we recover, too, to see if we can get something relating this murder to Ms. Burley's, but based on what I'm seeing here, the gun used on this woman is different than the one used on Hannah. There wasn't as much damage to this woman's body." Cam grimaced as she saw Booth shudder slightly. "I'm sorry, Booth. I shouldn't have been so graphic."

"It's okay, Cam...I'm okay, really." Booth glanced quickly around the park. "My other question is how did someone get off two shots around here without being heard? This park always has a lot of people using it, even in the evening." After a few seconds, he nodded resolutely. "I think whoever did this had to have a silencer on their gun. That's the only thing that makes any sense."

"So this wasn't a crime of passion…" Cam looked back at the housekeeper's body. "Someone came prepared for this…to murder this woman. They knew they wanted to keep the housekeeper quiet permanently."

"It sure looks that way to me." Booth tapped his note cards with his pen. "Mrs. Jordan may have known who shot Hannah and why, and our killer was afraid she'd talk. There's no way this is a coincidence." He reached into his pocket to find his ringing telephone. "Just a minute…Booth." He listened to the call for a few seconds, nodding as he looked around the park for McAnally, who was talking to a uniformed officer, waving at her to join him. "Okay, I'll see you there. Yeah. Okay, ten minutes." _So much for backing out of the investigation into Hannah's death._ He hung up and waved to a group of people. "Hey, McAnally...over here, please." He smiled at the agent as she quickly came over to join Booth and Cam. "Listen, I need to go by the Jeffersonian for a few minutes to check on some information Dr. Brennan has discovered on the skeletal remains of Ms. Burley. Can you stay here and work with the locals on this crime scene? Maybe your brother can give you a ride back to the Hoover?"

"Sure thing, sir. I'll fill you in on what we find when you get back to your office."

"Great, thanks." Putting his cards in his jacket pocket, Booth quickly explained things to Cam. "Bones found something on Hannah's skeleton she wants me to see. Can you handle getting this body transported to the Jeffersonian? I'll clear it with the Metro detective and ask them to keep looking for the scene of the murder..."

"Yes, I'll take care of transport." Cam stood up and stretched. "It's been a crazy 24 hours, hasn't it?"

"Yeah…" Booth sighed softly. "...and I'm not sure we're done with it yet…"

oooooooooo

 _Thanks for reading. If you have time to leave a review, that would be great..._


	4. Chapter 4 The Senator

_Just a quick reminder: This story is slightly AU. I don't own the Bones characters in the story. Any resemblance between the characters I've created and real people is a coincidence and unintentional._

 _Thanks for all the comments. If you have time to leave a review when you've finished reading, I'd appreciate it._

 _oooooooooo_

Agent Mateo Lopez quickly glanced through the dossier that Special Agent in Charge Aubrey had compiled on Senator William Camden. Representing the great state of New York, Camden had served his valued constituents for twenty-four relatively unremarkable years. He'd managed to get re-elected to several terms by avoiding any political risks and by keeping himself out of trouble, maintaining a low profile and voting exactly the way he was instructed to vote by the fat cats who ran his political party. His family had a good name and lots of old money, so he was able to keep a small house in his hometown and a large three bedroom apartment in New York City in addition to the rambling yellow house at 22 Hickory Lane in Washington, DC. Other than that, there was nothing to set him apart from the rest of the politicians in the US Senate, but, in spite of his anonymity, he seemed quite content with his lot in life. Divorced several years ago, he had no children, and he had settled into a satisfactory routine of political rallies, meetings with lobbyists, and occasional votes on the various items that came up on the Senate's agenda. He had publicly stated recently that he hoped to retire quietly and without fanfare to his New York City apartment at the end of his current term.

The photograph enclosed with the file showed a slightly built, graying man in his fifties. Lopez shrugged as he set the picture aside. _All in all, a plain vanilla kind of guy. I wonder how he got mixed up in this mess…_ He was reading through the senator's voting record when he looked up from the file to acknowledge the junior agent who had knocked on his office door. "Yes, Archer?"

"Senator Camden has arrived, sir."

"Excellent. Show him to conference room one. Agent Aubrey and I will join him there shortly. Make sure the senator has water or a cup of coffee if he wants one…" Lopez pulled out his phone and called Aubrey. "Senator Camden's here. Ready? Great. Five minutes in the main conference room. Right."

Senator Camden sat at the long table in the glass walled conference room, nervously drumming his carefully manicured fingers on the sleek wood as he inspected his surroundings. As far as he was concerned, this situation was simply unbearable for a man of his social standing. His carefully cultivated image of genteel respectability had been shot out of the water by the unseemly events that had taken place at his house the previous day, and now he'd been called in by the FBI to answer questions about Hannah's death. Pinching his lips together, he went over his story in his mind again...he had no idea what had happened to Hannah...no idea if Hannah had problems at work...no idea if she had any enemies or if there was anyone who might want her dead...just stick to the story, and things would be alright. He stared morosely into his coffee cup. The simple plan that had been presented to him had gone horribly wrong, somehow, and now Hannah was gone! It wasn't supposed to end this way!

He'd made the panicky phone call to his contact as soon as he could after the metro police officer charged with delivering the horrible news had left his Capitol Hill office. "You said it would work! You said no one would get hurt, remember? All we had to do was stick to the plan, remember? And now Hannah's DEAD! Someone shot her while she was at MY HOUSE! That was NOT a part of the plan that you presented to me!"

Camden shuddered, fretting as he sat at the table, still remembering the abject fear he felt as he heard the throaty voice on the other end of the call. "Fucking bitch said she wouldn't give up the kid. She said she had to protect him from me! She said she didn't want to hurt that bastard, either. Imagine that...all she went through with him, and she said she still cared for him. She wouldn't tell me where the brat was…she didn't want to go through with the plan. All that money, and she changed her fucking mind...she went batshit crazy on me...threatened to call the cops...I needed that kid, and I wasn't about to leave the house without him. I paid a lot of money for him, and I already had him promised to someone..."

"I can't help you with that.", Camden stammered, frightened at the thought of what might happen next. "I don't have him, and I don't know where he is...he was staying with her. Did you search the house and grounds? There's all sorts of places a child could hide…She could have hidden him almost anywhere. It's a large house..."

"Well, I found the little monster hiding in a cabinet in an upstairs bathroom. He was kicking and screaming as I tied him up and got him ready to take out to the car, so I put an end to that...and then Hannah got in the way. That stupid whore couldn't leave well enough alone...and you know know what happened to her, don't you? She got exactly what she deserved for fucking with the plan. That's why her brains and her pretty face are all over the walls and floor of your formal dining room. That's what happens to anyone who gets in my way! Keep that in mind, Mr. Fancy Pants Big Shot Senator! Remember, stay out of my way. Just ask Nataliya." A horrible guttural laugh was followed by another ominous threat. "Don't forget...I know all about you and all your kinky little habits, too. I won't shoot you yet...just leak those videos from that party to the press. Then you'll be so embarrassed you'll beg me to kill you, won't you? Suicide by assassin, right?''

"The housekeeper? Mrs. Jordan? What happened? What about the child...is the child alright? Where is the child?" Senator Camden yelled as the line went dead. _Dear God...what have I done?_ He'd sat in his office for the rest of the afternoon, trying to figure out what to do next...

His worrisome thoughts were interrupted by the two stern faced men in dark suits who entered the conference room. "Senator Camden, thank you for coming to see us this morning. I realize it must be inconvenient for you at this difficult time. I'm Special Agent James Aubrey, and this is my associate, Agent Lopez. We'd like to talk to you about Hannah Burley's murder." Aubrey and Lopez both took a seat opposite of the senator. Aubrey glanced through the file folder in his hand as Lopez got his pad and paper out, ready to take notes as necessary. "To start with, what was your relationship with Ms. Burley and how long had she been living in the house at 22 Hickory Lane?"

Camden wiped his eyes and nose with his crumpled handkerchief as he tried to explain. "Hannah was the daughter of a friend of mine...someone I was in business with in New York before I was elected to the Senate. About thirty nine years ago or so, my friend had an illicit and very intimate affair with a woman whose husband was on staff at the Russian embassy in New York City, and Hannah was the child born of that relationship. The woman's husband naturally assumed that he was the father of the child, so my friend felt like he had dodged a bullet in that regard, and there was never any indication that the woman's husband ever found out about the affair or about the true parentage of the child, especially since the girl strongly resembled her mother. Because my friend worked with the husband on various projects for the embassy, he was able to give them a sizable sum of money as a gift for the child as his way of offering financial support for her without it appearing to be suspicious. And that would have been the end of it, except…"

"Wait a minute, Senator Camden…you're saying that Hannah was born to a mother who was a Russian citizen?" Aubrey flicked his eyes over at Lopez to see if he'd made the connection. Hannah had been helping the Russian housekeeper learn English...maybe she also spoke Russian fluently...Lopez nodded as he jotted a note to ask Booth what he knew about it.

"Yes, she was raised by the Russian family. She grew up speaking Russian at home. As it was, things had worked out well for my friend. He got to see the child from time to time, and he lavished her with gifts as a way to provide for her, so he was happy with the arrangement until the day when Hannah's mother was killed in a car accident when Hannah was about four or five years old. The man Hannah knew as her father was devastated by the loss of his wife, of course. In his grief, he decided that he wanted to return to Russia as soon as possible, but having the child complicated the issue in many ways. The child had not yet been issued a passport, and the man had no family in Russia that could help him raise a small child, so my friend, the man who was her biological father, offered to take Hannah into his home. His wife was agreeable, and they had no other children, so it was quickly agreed upon. Some of the staff at the Russian Embassy pulled some strings, and the adoption took place very quickly, so the man Hannah knew as her father gave up his parental rights and left for Moscow soon afterward. Hannah later went through the process of becoming a naturalized US citizen, because at the time she didn't know my friend was her biological father, and as far as I know, he never told her the truth."

"What was the name of Hannah's biological father?" Aubrey looked through his file. "We don't seem to have any next of kin listed for her."

"His name was Craig Buckley, and his wife's name was Ann Marie Morrow Buckley. They divorced when Hannah was about twelve. Unfortunately, Hannah's birth mother was not Craig's only illicit sexual dalliance. Craig just couldn't keep it in his pants." The Senator shook his head at the memory. "Ann Marie found him in a compromising sexual situation one too many times, but before she could sue for divorce, Craig simply vanished, and I never heard from him again. I think he's still considered to be a missing person. Ann Marie died about ten years ago without ever finding out what happened to him. As far as I know, she had a good relationship with Hannah..."

Aubrey held up his hand to interrupt Camden. "Lopez, make a note to see if the Bureau has any information on Craig Buckley being a missing person. Senator, you still haven't told us why Hannah was at your house yesterday. Based on the clothes, cosmetics, and personal items, it seems like she lived there…"

Camden felt his heart speed up as his blood turned to ice water. _The plan...remember the plan…_ "She was house sitting for me. I tend to be out of town a lot...speaking engagements, checking on my constituents back home, things like that. My house had been broken into twice before, and the local police officer investigating the last break in suggested that I engage a house sitter, because occupied homes are less likely to be burglarized. Hannah knew I had a house in DC, so when she contacted me, saying that she needed a place to stay in the DC area, and because I needed someone to live in the house, we struck a deal for her to stay there a couple of days a week. It was just a happy coincidence…" Camden's voice trailed off as he realized the awful irony of his statement.

Lopez cleared his throat, glancing at Aubrey before he spoke. "Did she have a child with her, Senator? There were toys and clothes for a small boy in the house…"

 _The plan...the plan…_ "I'm unsure about that, Agent Lopez. Perhaps so...I don't know for sure…I didn't ask about whether or not she had any children, but I suppose it's possible."

"Is there a wall safe in the house? Do you know if she had any sort of safety deposit box or some other place she might keep important papers? Do you know where she did her banking or anything about her credit cards?" Aubrey tapped his pencil on the table impatiently. Aubrey could tell that the Senator was getting nervous, and he wasn't giving them enough details. _This guy wants to clam up...he's hiding something..._ Giving Lopez a tacit glance, Aubrey decided he was going to have to push the senator a bit farther to find out what he needed to know.

"No, there's no safe in the house, and I'm sure I don't know anything about which financial institutions she used. That seems to be the sort of private information I wouldn't have access to. Our arrangement was strictly business. I paid her a small stipend to stay at the house, and I paid for her utilities while she lived there, but that's all." The senator glared at Aubrey. "It's not like I was doing anything illegal or immoral. I have a reputation to uphold, Agent Aubrey. I wasn't Hannah's sugar daddy, if that's what you think. She wasn't a 'kept woman'. Now, if that's all…" Camden nervously licked his lips and pushed his chair away from the conference table. "I'm in a bit of a hurry…"

Aubrey sat back in his chair, pressing his fingertips together as he watched the Senator grow more nervous and fidgety. "I'm afraid that's not all, Senator. Mrs. Jordan, the housekeeper that Ms. Burley had hired, was found shot to death in a park not far from the house on Hickory Lane this morning. Can you think of anything that might connect the two women, other than their ethnic background? It seems that perhaps they both had Russian ancestry..."

 _Oh my God...that's what he meant about Nataliya…_ Camden swallowed hard as he tried to present a nonchalant demeanor, even though his mind was reeling from the news. _Remember the plan..._ "I have no idea about any sort of housekeeper, but if there was one, hiring Mrs. Jordan was Hannah's doing. I don't know anything about the housekeeper's background, but I imagine it might have been a mere coincidence that Hannah hired a Russian woman. Now, if you don't mind, I really must be going." The senator rose from his chair. "I have an appointment with the funeral director. I need to make Hannah's arrangements...it's the least I can do for her..."

"One more thing, Senator." Aubrey stood in front of the door to prevent the senator from leaving. "What was Ms. Burley's birth name? Do you remember?"

"Well, let me think a minute...oh yes, of course. Her birth mother named her Snezhana Ivanovna Biryukova…"

Aubrey nodded as he thought things through. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch to get Hannah Burley from a combination of that name and the last name of Buckley. "Thank you, Senator. We'll be in touch."

As the Senator left the room, Lopez finished scribbling some more notes on the legal pad in front of him before looking over at Aubrey. "What do you think, Boss? Was he her sugar daddy?"

Aubrey shook his head thoughtfully. "I'm not positive, but right off hand I'd say no. He has too much to lose if Hannah were to make waves...a scandal might damage his plans to retire quietly." Picking up the file, Aubrey looked through it again and pulled out some of the crime scene photos. He tapped them with his finger as he spoke to Lopez. "But I do think he knows who did this to her, and judging by the way he was squirming, he's worried about being next. We need to arrange for some surveillance on our friend, the Senator. I want to make sure nothing happens to him...we're gonna need to talk to him again."

Oooooooooo

A man checked his watch as he sat at picnic table in a public park later that day, setting up a chessboard as he waited for his companion. Glancing around as he heard a small rustling sound, he nodded as a figure wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses quietly slipped out of the deep shade from a grove of trees into the bright noontime sunshine and sat down across from him.

The man with the chessboard grunted in annoyance. "You're late. I wondered if maybe you'd changed your mind about our business."

His playing partner smirked as he adjusted his sunglasses. "I was occupied longer than I expected. I had to find a place to put Nataliya's body where someone could find her easily. I wanted to make sure our target stays involved with the case."

"I see. Don't you worry that they'll trace the gun to you?" Pointing to the chessboard, he gestured to his companion. "You can take the white."

"The gun is not registered, since it isn't legal in this country, and I made sure there were are no prints. No...that's not what I'm worried about." Making a move with his first white pawn, Mr. Sunglasses commented, "It's the senator, Mikhail...he knows too much...and he talks too much. We need to get rid of him."

"And just how will we do that?" Mikhail moved his black pawn forward to meet the white one. "I can't just shoot a United States Senator, or make him disappear...you know that." He watched as his companion moved his bishop out across the board. "He has too much security surrounding him for that to happen. I guess we could arrange an accident…perhaps his car can run off the road and hit a tree...that always works well." Another black pawn moved forward.

"No. He can't just die. We also need to discredit the senator in the eyes of the public, so that anything he's already told the FBI will be doubted." There was a long pause while Mr. Sunglasses considered his options on the board in front of him as the game progressed. "I want you to suggest another party to him…"

"You mean like the one he had last month? Why? I still have the video from that one…for the blackmail..." Taking a white rook, Mikhail nodded for his companion to make a move.

The white queen was advancing across the board. "You'll suggest another party, but tell him it's at a secret location...somewhere new and different. I think the crime scene at his house will be released shortly, and they'll allow the cleaners in so he can have his house back all nice and neat. Ask him to meet you there so you can pick him up and take him to the party."

Mikhail shook his head. "I don't understand…" He paused a few seconds before moving his knight. "What good would that do? Where would we go?"

A hoarse laugh erupted from his companion as he took the black knight. "You're an idiot, you know that, Mikhail? He'll be pleased to try out a new venue...but he'll never make it there...understand?"

"Oh...I see…" Mikhail giggled wildly as he moved his bishop. "And then I can be creative with him? Practice for the agent and his family, I guess…"

"If you wish...but we need to wait before anything happens to them...I want to let them suffer for a while..." The white queen took the black queen. "Checkmate…"

"Checkmate? Already? Dammit." Mikhail reached down to knock over his king. "Of course, my friend...whatever you say. We can make them suffer as long as you want." Grinning broadly at his companion, he started to pack up the chessboard. "When will we get our money for the child?"

Mr. Sunglasses smirked as he turned to walk away. "Soon, Mikhail...very soon."


	5. Chapter 5 A Name from the Past

_A/N: I know we're jumping back and forth a bit, but please remember that at this point of the story there are two murder investigations ongoing. Also, the FBI's investigation is going on at the same time as the Jeffersonian's work, and I'm trying to present both parts of the action. I hope that makes sense. Things will become more clear as the story progresses. If you have time to leave a review after reading, I'd appreciate it! Laura_

Booth clenched his jaw as he strode purposefully across the lab toward the platform where his wife was bending over a set of bones. He walked briskly up the steps and used his access card to gain entry, trying to act as normal as possible, even though he was feeling anything but normal. _Just another day at work, right? Jesus...it wasn't supposed to be this way once I made Deputy Director...things were supposed to be easier for us..._ Brennan looked up as she heard the platform alarm chirp, biting her lip as she tried to maintain her composure. She knew the situation would be difficult for Booth to process, and she hadn't wanted to give him this information over the phone while he was out in the field investigating a case.

Booth stopped at the foot of the exam table and, swallowing nervously, stared silently at the skeleton lying there. _It's so hard to believe...this is all that's left of Hannah...she was so full life..._ He took a deep breath as he noticed how badly damaged the skull was. _God...she never had a chance...Hannah's killer must have hated her..._ Sighing as he ran his hand across his chin, Booth moved to stand by Brennan as she examined the skeleton's pelvic girdle. "Okay…let's hear it. What is it that you couldn't tell me over the phone?" Still slightly annoyed, he stood with his arms crossed over his chest as he tried to imagine what could be so painful for Bones to say to him that she wanted to tell him in person.

Brennan looked up at Booth and nodded toward the skeleton. "In examining the remains, it appears that this woman has given birth at least once, probably more than five years ago, based on the remodeling of the pelvic bones…"

Booth interrupted. "So...over five years ago...that means it could've happened a couple of years after me and Hannah broke up, right?" Booth shrugged slightly as he listened to Brennan's explanation. "So maybe there's a chance I might not be the missing kid's father, right? There's a gap in that time frame that we can't account for, and she could've been in another relationship that we don't know about..."

"Estimating how long ago a deceased woman gave birth without knowing the age of her children is an inexact science at best, Booth. See the pitted surfaces here on the pelvic bones? That's where the pelvic ligaments were stretched and possibly torn as she gave birth. The pubic symphysis...this gap between the pubic bones, where the ligaments holding the bones stretch apart as the child passes through the birth canal, also tells me she gave birth, although not how many times. There has been quite a bit of remodeling in the joints and points where the ligaments attach to the pelvis, and that's what I've based my estimate on. This birth definitely didn't occur recently. I'm using my knowledge and skill as a forensic anthropologist to estimate how long ago the birth occurred, but again, it is inexact. However, in my experience, this amount of remodeling on the pelvic bones makes me think that the birth was well over five years ago...probably more like seven to ten years ago. We can't completely rule out that you are the father of the missing child, based on the evidence we have available to us now. Given the state of your relationship with Hannah eight years ago, it does seem that there could be good reason to believe that you are indeed the father of her child, especially when we consider his striking resemblance to you." Brennan brushed the right femur with her fingertips. "Other than the obvious injuries to the skull, her skeleton is robust. She was apparently in excellent health when she died." Pointing to the hands, she continued. "I think the murderer removed the most distal sections of the phalanges to make it difficult to identify the body from fingerprints. I have no other explanation for that occurrence…"

Booth turned and walked away from the exam table, exhaling slowly as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jesus...I don't think I can work this case anymore, Bones. It's just too much to handle, not knowing where her kid is, or even if it is her kid… or our kid...hers and mine…I'm trying to maintain my professional composure here, but I just can't do that right now..."

"I know." Brennan turned away from the remains on the table, removed her examination gloves and, walking over to where her husband stood, put her arms around his waist. "You need to let Aubrey handle this, Booth. Why don't I call him and tell him what I've found? I'm sorry I called you to come into the lab to tell you about this. I probably should've called him instead, since this is his case, but I thought you would want to know first."

Booth nodded as he embraced his wife. "It's okay, Bones. I'm not upset about you calling me and asking me to come to the lab. You were right...I needed to be the first to know what you'd found out about Hannah." Holding her close, he shook his head. "I'm just angry that we don't have any definite information about who or what we're looking for, and I'm sad about Hannah's death." Booth kissed his wife gently and gave her a sad smile. "Look...don't forget what I said, okay? This has nothing to do with what I used to feel for Hannah. That's not what's got me so upset. I mean, yes, the case is upsetting, but the real issue is not knowing anything about that poor little kid...you know, where he is, or if he's alright. He might really be my son...my own flesh and blood...and I'm so worried about him..."

Brennan nodded as she caressed her husband's cheek. "We're doing everything we can to help the FBI find the child. Angela has been examining the picture the housekeeper gave us to see if it was altered somehow by a computer program so that he would resemble you. Hopefully, she'll have some results soon, and then we'll possibly have more information to help in the search. Perhaps she can give us a more accurate picture of the child's appearance." Brennan paused as she noticed that Hodgins was slowly moving toward the platform. "Dr. Hodgins, do you have any test results for us yet?" She turned to Booth to explain what Hodgins had been examining. "He swabbed what was left of the facial bones and the skull for particulates to see if he could get information about what sort of gun was used to kill Hannah."

Hodgins grunted softly as he used the handrail to pull himself up the steps to the lab platform. Gritting his teeth as he stood on the top step and arranged his Lofstrand crutches, he steadied himself so he wouldn't topple over. It had been hard to learn how to walk with the damn things, but it was so much better than being confined to a wheelchair. Occasionally, if he was really fatigued, he had to resort to using his chair, but he was determined to walk as much as he could whenever he could so he could re-train his leg muscles. Presently his doctor had restricted him to working in the lab or on simple recoveries on level ground, but Hodgins was hoping that soon he'd be able to go back out in the field for recoveries under more strenuous conditions. He stretched forward to use his card to access the lab platform and moved carefully to join Booth and Brennan next to the examination table. "Hey, Booth. I'm sorry about Hannah. I know it's hard on you, having to investigate her murder and all."

"Thanks." Booth nodded grimly as he looked back toward the bones lying on the table. "You're right...it's uncomfortable, but I'm doing the best I can to find out what happened to her. I think that's the most caring thing I can do for her under the circumstances."

Brennan gestured toward the tablet Hodgins had with him. "What have you been able to find out from the samples you took, Hodgins?"

"Well, I actually got some unusual results, so I ran the tests several more times, but I kept getting the same weird answers." He pulled up a picture on the large computer monitor at the lab station. "The gunpowder residue that was left on the facial bones had a different composition than I would normally expect to find in a wound like that one. The ratio of nitrates and saltpeter to sulfur is unusual, so I did some research online. Guess what I found out?"

Booth clenched his jaw as he began to tap his foot rapidly and tighten his fists, all sure signs of his growing impatience. "I don't have time to play guessing games, Hodgins. Just tell me what you've found out, alright?"

"The composition of this gunpowder residue is much more common in Russia than in the US, so I did some digging. I think Hannah was shot at very close range with one of these." Hodgins pointed to the picture on the monitor. "This is a Russian KS 23, which is somewhat comparable to a sawed off shotgun in this country. The only problem with my theory is that this weapon and the type of gunpowder that goes with it are very difficult to acquire in the US, so most likely it belongs to someone who is actually from Russia, and that the gun was somehow brought into the US illegally. It's going to be difficult to track down the exact weapon to do any sort of ballistics test on it."

"Son of a bitch." Booth swore softly as he shook his head. "The Russian mafia...that's one of their weapons of choice. God...what was Hannah mixed up with?" He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed a number. "Aubrey? Hey, I need you to call Special Agent Weis in the RICO unit. You know who he is, right? Good. I want him to check on the status of a guy who's supposed to be in the federal pen in Atlanta. The guy's name is Dmitri Vladov. Yeah...he was busted for conspiracy to smuggle vodka into this country illegally about nine or ten years ago. Got it? Okay, good...let me know what you find out as soon as possible. Thanks."

"Vladov...why does that name sound familiar?", Hodgins mused. "Oh yeah...he was the guy who was using the reverse osmosis filter that he arranged to have stolen from the Aquarium of the Atlantic to remove that blue dye from the cheap vodka, right? They brought the stuff into the country labeled as window cleaner to avoid paying any additional tariffs, but it was really about 80 proof alcohol…"

Booth grinned slightly as he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's him. As you can imagine, Vladov was really angry when I busted their operation, and he swore he'd get pay back for all the money he lost when we took down his organization. He was unlucky enough to arrange for the theft of that fancy filter from the aquarium on the same night that a murder was committed there, remember, Hodgins? He got caught because you helped me figure out why he bribed the guy to steal the filter while we were working the murder investigation of Jazz Gunn. We got him on all sorts of tariff violations and for impeding several federal investigations. Hacker said Vladov was being investigated by all sorts of federal agencies…"

Brennan smiled proudly at her husband. "Booth was the only agent who was able to use the evidence you gave him, Hodgins, to put the man in prison, no matter what Deputy Director Andrew Hacker said about it."

Seeing Hodgins' confusion, Booth explained what had happened. "Hacker tried to convince me to let the whole thing with Vladov slide...not to even bother bringing Vladov in. He said I couldn't make anything stick on the bastard...that I'd be wasting my time...but I proved that jackass wrong. We arrested Vladov and several other members of his gang on smuggling and conspiracy charges, and we got convictions on every single one of those cases, thanks to your tip about how they were going to use the filter from the aquarium, Hodgins. If I remember correctly, Vladov got twenty years...and Hacker got a promotion for taking Vladov down, even though I did all the legwork." Booth was practically snarling at the memory. "I really hated working for that son of a bitch Hacker, and not just because he tried to steal Bones away from me." Booth winked at her as he continued. "Hacker got a lot of recognition for all the cases Bones and I closed, and he almost never acknowledged who did the real investigative work. I was really glad when he got reassigned to Juneau. He deserved it." Booth chuckled softly. "Cullen was none too happy when he figured out why it had taken so long for the Bureau to bust Vladov's smuggling ring. Hacker was trying to avoid confronting the guy because he was afraid of his gang, so he sat back and let me take on all the risk and make the arrests, and then he took all the credit and got all the glory. That's not how things are supposed to go at the Bureau, you know? Cullen offered me a deputy directorship to make up for it, but then I realized I'd have to give up field work…" Booth smiled at Brennan, "...and I knew I'd miss working with Bones too much, so I didn't take it."

"I don't remember you being offered a promotion, Booth." Brennan's brows knit together as she thought about what had happened all those years ago. She finally arched her eyebrow at him in surprise. "You didn't tell me about it, did you? You kept it a secret from me!"

Her husband shrugged as his mouth twitched into a charm smile. "We'd hit a rough patch in our relationship during that time, you know? I was afraid that if we didn't keep working together as partners, I'd lose you completely...and I just couldn't risk that. I loved you too much. I had to keep you in my life somehow, even if it meant waiting on the promotion…I knew I'd get another chance at a promotion eventually." Booth paused as his phone rang. "Hey, Aubrey. What? Goddammit. Really? Shit. Yeah, great. Just great. Thanks for letting me know." Booth grimaced as he put his phone in his pocket. "Dmitri Vladov got out of prison on parole about six weeks ago, and then he just disappeared...it seems like he and his ankle monitor just dropped off the grid. He was supposed to stay in the DC area, but his parole officer says he has no idea where the guy is. He thinks maybe Vladov went back to Russia...I guess we need to run that idea past Homeland Security and see what they say about the bastard."

"But you don't think he's gone, do you, Booth?" Brennan watched her husband as he considered the possibilities. "You believe he's still in the States, right? Do you think he's capable of kidnapping and murder?"

Booth nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think he's back in the DC area, right under our noses, hiding in plain sight as part of the Russian community here in town. And, yeah...if he wanted revenge for what I did to break up his organization, he'd stop at nothing to ruin my life…" Booth shuddered as he looked at Brennan. "He'd stop at nothing at all. He's definitely capable of murder or kidnapping if it serves his purposes." Booth began to pace as he thought about how dangerous Vladov actually could be if provoked. "Listen, Bones, I need you to call Max and ask him to take Christine and Hank out of town as soon as possible. We need to get our kids as far away from DC as we can. Does Max still have contacts in Ohio? Or maybe they can go stay with your cousin Margaret in Minnesota..."

Without hesitating, Brennan pulled out her phone and hit the speed dial. "I don't know how quickly Max can get things done, but I'll ask him to make whatever arrangements he deems necessary so that they can leave as soon as possible." She walked off the platform as she began to talk to her father about what she needed him to do...

"Hodgins, I'm gonna need you to do your gunshot residue thing on the body that Cam's going to bring in later today. I need to know what kind of gun she was shot with. I think it was probably some sort of Russian handgun, but I want to be sure...I need proof."

"Sure, whatever you want, Booth. What are you gonna do?" Hodgins felt a bit of panic seep in as he saw the angry expression on the agent's face as he checked his service revolver. "Hey...Listen, Booth...you can't go by get that Vladov guy by yourself...you gotta be careful, man..."

Booth turned to walk down the steps leading off the platform. He stopped and glanced back at Hodgins, his anger evident on his face. "I'm gonna go find that bastard Vladov, and then he'll the one who'd better be careful..."

"At least call Aubrey or some other agent to go with you...you can't go charging into Little Moscow like General Custer, Booth…you'll be outnumbered on their turf. Come on, dude...I know you're upset about everything that's happened, but Dr. B needs you to come home in one piece. You know I'm right…"

Booth hesitated, considering what Hodgins was saying. _Yeah, he's right...I'm a Deputy Director of the FBI...I can't go off running around half cocked like some crazy assed son of a bitch…_ "Okay, Hodgins, I get it." Pulling out his phone, Deputy Director Booth placed a phone call to someone who might be able to help. "Special Agent Weis? This is Deputy Director Booth. You're still in charge of RICO, right? Good. I need a couple of your guys to go pick up the head of the Russian mafia in the DC area and bring him in for questioning as soon as possible. What? I don't give a damn how you're supposed to do that. You're the goddamn Special Agent in Charge, so figure it out. I'm sure you can think of something, right? I don't know...does he have an overdue library book? Maybe his dog isn't licensed correctly or his kids have bad grades in school. That's not my problem. Go pick him up, and call me when he's in the can." Hanging up, Booth nodded at Hodgins. "There...better, right? I'll just let someone else take care of that little detail."

Hodgins breathed an obvious sigh of relief. "Thanks, Booth. I'll call you after I look over the body Cam's bringing in."


	6. Chapter 6 A Letter from the Grave

Brennan walked into her office quickly, glancing briefly at the email on her computer before shutting it down. She picked up her jacket, purse, and messenger bag and hurriedly turned to leave when she saw Angela standing in the doorway.

"Brennan, about this photograph…" Angela paused as she saw the frightened look in Brennan's eyes. "What's wrong? Is everything okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." She smiled a bit, waiting for her friend to tell her that there was so such thing as an apparition of the dead, but Brennan just groaned in exasperation and shook her head as she moved toward the door. Angela reached out as Brennan passed, laying a hand gently on her arm. "Sweetie…tell me what's going on. Please! I want to help..."

"I'm sorry, Angela, but I don't have time to talk. I need to go home, and I'm in a hurry…" Brennan glanced at the photograph in Angela's hand and stopped suddenly. "Oh...Did you discover something about the picture of Hannah's son?"

"Yeah…That's what I came to tell you." Breathing out a sigh, Angela held the photograph out to Brennan. "It hasn't been tampered with as far as I can tell. The pixels are all the same size and are evenly spread across the image, without any distortion. The shadows and lighting are correct for the this type of photograph. I also ran it through several computer programs that look for reversals or composites, and all I came up with is that this picture is the real thing. The little boy in the picture really does look like Parker and, by extension, Booth. I'm sorry, Sweetie."

"There's no need to apologize, Angela. I'm glad you were able to apply your expertise to assist us in discovering the truth." Brennan sat on the edge of her desk as she took the picture from Angela. "I'm fairly sure Hannah gave birth about to the boy about eight years ago, and that this is truly Booth's child." She bit the inside of her cheek before continuing, trying to keep her composure. "He insists that it's not possible, but, looking at all the evidence, it has to be…" Brennan's voice dropped to a whisper as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"No...I don't believe it. It's just...there's got to be another explanation, Brennan." Angela sat on the arm of the sofa opposite of her friend. "Listen, remember when you wanted Booth to donate semen so you could have a baby? What was that...almost ten years ago, right? Maybe Hannah was able to find a way to use some of the semen he donated to impregnate herself."

"But why would she do that? It would make no sense for her to become pregnant at that time in her life. She had a wonderful career as a foreign correspondent for a major television network, and having a small child would certainly be an unwelcome complication to her nomadic lifestyle." Brennan glanced at her watch. "I need to go, Angela...Max is going to take Christine and Hank out of town for a few days, and I need to go home so I can pack some things for them." Brennan stood to move toward the door again.

Angela studied Brennan carefully. "Okay, I'm gonna ask you one more time….what is going on? Are you going on vacation? Taking a trip now is kind of weird, isn't it?"

"No, it's not any sort of vacation." Sighing, Brennan leaned against her desk again. "Booth believes that Hannah was involved somehow with a Russian gangster named Dmitri Vladov, who was recently paroled from the federal penitentiary in Atlanta. Booth was the FBI agent who obtained the evidence that led to the man's arrest and conviction. It's possible that this man is looking for vengeance against Booth, and Booth wants to do everything he can keep the children safe. I know he's being overprotective, but it would be of no use to argue with him at this juncture, so Max is taking them to Ohio and Minnesota for a week or two until the situation here is somewhat more under control. I'm going to go home to pack their suitcases, and I'll be back in a few hours." Brennan picked up her bags and stood in the doorway for a few seconds before a thought occurred to her. Turning back to Angela, she exhaled slowly before she spoke again. "The fertility clinic where Booth donated his semen is run by a gynecologist named Elena Apalkova. I suppose it's just a coincidence that she's from Chelyabinsk, Russia."

Angela nodded as she followed Brennan out of the office. "Isn't it Booth who insists that there are no coincidences in a murder investigation? Don't worry, Bren. You take care of your kids, and I'll see what I can find out about the good doctor."

Oooooooooo

Booth was checking his email when Aubrey stopped by to give him an update. "Senator Camden says that Hannah was his house sitter while she was here in DC. I guess she's lived at his house off and on for the last year or so. She could've taken the train to New York for work, but that's three and a half hours each way, and commuting by air would've been expensive. We've asked the NYC office to check on whether or not she had an apartment there...that may be where the child is." Aubrey sat down across from Booth and pursed his lips, trying to figure out how to ask the deputy director for the other information he needed.

"What?" Booth looked up from his computer to see Aubrey watching him. "Is there something else?"

"Well, yeah, kind of...it's not really a big deal, but did you know that Hannah's mother was a Russian citizen, and that Hannah spoke Russian fluently?" Aubrey held a file out for Booth. "The name given to her at birth was Snezhana Biryukova. Her biological father was an American named Craig Buckley, who, by the way, is still considered a missing person." Aubrey nodded toward Booth's computer. "Maybe that will help you look for her son's birth record."

"Wait...you're serious, right? Hannah could speak Russian fluently because her mother was Russian? Jesus…" Booth let out a low whistle as he sat back in his chair. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with being part Russian, but that does explain things about how she did her job as a foreign correspondent. While we were in Afghanistan together, she used to speak to our interpreter and the village elders in the area in some sort of weird hybrid language...she said it was a mixture of Russian, the local Farsi and some Pashto, and that it developed during the period of time when the Russians occupied Afghanistan. That's how she got a lot of her information. When I arrested her...when we first met...she had gone into no man's land to talk to some of the guys who could give her information about a village big shot she wanted to interview." Booth gazed out his office window, shaking his head. "It makes sense that she spoke Russian, Aubrey, and that might also explain her connection to the Russian mafia. Hodgins thinks she was killed with the Russian version of a sawed off shotgun…" Booth sighed and closed his eyes as pinched the bridge of his nose. "She took a blast to the face at point blank range. That kind of gun is used by the Russian mob, which probably means that somehow she crossed the wrong guy in the organization and paid for that with her life."

"So you think this was some sort of mob hit? Really?" Seeing Booth's annoyed glare, Aubrey shook his head. "I'm not so sure, Booth. I think this was more of a personal deal. Whoever did this was violently angry at her. It must've been someone who hated her, given all the damage that was done to her face. A mob hit would be a lot cleaner and more efficient, you know? It'd be more impersonal...something harder to trace, like a long range shot or a single bullet from a pistol...something like that, and I think they would've avoided killing her in her house. I think the mob would be more likely to just make her disappear instead."

"Yeah, you're right, I guess. This whole thing is just so unbelievable…" Booth paused as he looked up at the young man standing in his doorway. "What is it, Brooks?"

"Well, sir…" Agent Brooks cringed slightly as he held up an envelope. Deputy Director Booth had a reputation for hating inefficiency in his division, and this was going to be a prime example of why. "This letter got delivered to me by mistake a couple of days ago. It was stuck between some other envelopes when they put the mail on my desk. It's addressed to you, Director Booth. I'm sorry, sir...I didn't see it until just now. I've been out of the office since the birth of my daughter a week ago."

Booth grinned and shrugged his shoulders as he took the envelope from the younger man. "Hey, no problem, Brooks...it's not your fault. These things happen. A little girl, huh? That's great! By the way, what did you name the baby?"

"Emily Diane. I wanted to call her Beyonce' Rihanna, but you gotta keep Grandma happy, you know?" Aubrey and Brooks laughed at the joke until Brooks paused as he saw the director's expression change. "Is everything okay, sir?"

"Fine. I'm fine." Booth's voice was taut with emotion. "Congratulations on the new baby." Booth waved his hand to dismiss Brooks as he lay the envelope on his desk and smoothed it over with his hands. Cautiously, he picked it up and gently pulled on the flap.

"You're starting to creep me out, Booth", Aubrey said as he watched Booth try to open the envelope without tearing it up. "What's going on?"

"This handwriting…" Booth pointed to the neat feminine lettering on the front of the envelope, "It looks like Hannah's handwriting. She usually typed everything, but she used to leave me little notes when we lived together…" He finally loosened the back flap. "No return address, I guess...so we still don't know where she was staying."

"What's the date on the postmark?" Booth held up the envelope so Aubrey could see the date. "Over a week ago...almost ten days. The zip code is in New York City...I'll text it to the FBI office there. It might give them a better starting point on where to look for her apartment."

"Yeah...good idea. I want the techs to dust this envelope, too…" Booth exhaled slowly as he pulled out the letter and began to read it silently.

 _Dear Seeley,_

 _I hope this letter finds you well. I know you and Temperance are very happy together, and I'm truly glad for you both. You deserve to be happy. Your children are lucky to have such wonderful people for parents._

 _Congratulations on attaining the title of Deputy Director. The world is a safer place since you are in charge, I think. It's been a long time coming, but the Bureau finally has the best man for the job._

 _I know you're wondering why I'm bothering you now after all these years have passed. I'm sorry, but it's absolutely necessary. I'm in a lot of trouble...actually, that's quite an understatement. I'm in an extremely dangerous situation, and I need your help, and, perhaps, the help of the FBI. I'm fairly sure that all my movements are being watched here in New York as well as in DC. I have a good idea of who is watching me, and I think know why he's watching me. My phone may be bugged, and I believe my computer has been hacked, although I have no real proof...just the constant feeling of being watched. I know someone's been in my apartment while I was gone on assignment, even though nothing's missing. They seem to know my every move...and I'm scared, Seeley...really scared. That's why I'm sending this letter to your office. I don't think they can track my snail mail yet, but just in case, I don't want to put the man's name in this letter. I'd rather tell you in person. I think it'll be safer that way._

 _I'll be in DC on the weekend of the tenth. Could you and Temperance please come to my house at 22 Hickory Lane? It's in the Heights. Come about noon on Friday, and we'll have lunch, and then I can fill you in on everything that's happened. If you can't come, don't call me. I don't know who'll be listening. Send a letter back to me instead. Use the notation 'General Delivery' at the zip code on the postmark stamped on the envelope. I know it's short notice, and I won't be offended if you can't come, but please, please try to be here. I'm desperate for help._

 _Also, there's also someone I want you to meet...someone you should have met a long time ago!_

 _I'm sorry I can't be more specific. Suffice it to say that I wouldn't have dreamed of disturbing you if it wasn't absolutely necessary for my safety and the safety of everyone I know. Right now, you and Temperance are the only people I trust._

 _Remember...things are not always what they seem._

 _I hope to see you soon._

 _Hannah_

Booth sat in stunned silence as he handed the letter to Aubrey to read.

"The tenth? That's the day…" Aubrey stammered, swallowing nervously as he realized what had happened. "That was three days ago...that's the day she was murdered…"

"Goddammit! If we had just been there…" Booth pounded his desk and swore again, jumping out of his chair so he could pace the room. "I might've stopped her murder from happening. I could've caught the bastard who did this, Aubrey…"

"Or you and Dr. B might be dead, too. Look, we still don't know for sure what happened at the house. There was no sign of forced entry, right? It's like she let someone in...someone she knew, and that's who killed her...and whoever it was could've shot you or Dr. B just as easily as they shot Ms. Burley. C'mon, Booth...you know this isn't your fault…"

"Yeah…alright..." Booth stopped pacing and closed his eyes as he collapsed in his desk chair. "But I gotta find that kid, you know? It may not be my kid, but I'm pretty sure he belongs to her...I gotta do that for her." Heaving a frustrated sigh, he turned to his keyboard and accessed his computer files. "Any new information from the FBI techs yet? Have they found out anything else about the Hickory Lane house?"

"Not really…just a minute...let me check on something." Aubrey pulled out his phone and made a call. "McAnally...listen, I want you and Lopez to go talk to Ms. Burley's neighbors again. See if there was any sort of pattern to when she came to the house on Hickory Lane, like if it was every weekend...you know, stuff like that. Someone may have been watching her and figured out when she would be there. Then I want you to get the techs back out at the house. Yeah, I know they've been over it good, but I think we must be missing something. Have them take their tablets so they can skype with Dr. Hodgins at the Jeffersonian, okay? He'll know what to look for. Good. Yeah, let me know as soon as possible." Sighing, Aubrey put his phone in his pocket and shrugged. "We seem to be at a dead end here. I still have to look over McAnally's report on the housekeeper's murder so I'm not sure where we are on that case…"

"Yeah, I still need to talk to Hodgins about the particulates he found on Mrs. Jordan's body…" Booth's phone rang. "Hey, Special Agent Weis...okay, that's great. Good work. Which room? Okay, yeah...we'll be there in a few minutes." Booth grabbed his jacket. "Weis picked up the guy who appears to be in charge of the Russian mafia here in DC….interrogation room three. Let's go…"

Oooooooooo

Max clucked lovingly at Brennan as they got the children ready for the trip. "Now, don't worry, Honey. We'll be fine, won't we, Christine? We're going on an adventure, right? Won't that be fun? I know I'm excited..." Max winked at Christine as he reached down to tickle her ear.

"But I want Mommy and Daddy to come with us.", Christine sobbed. "Why can't they come, too? I don't wanna go without them…" She clung to her mother's leg, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "Please, Mommy? I want you and Daddy to come on this trip with us."

"Christine, you and I talked about this on the way home from school, remember? Daddy and I have to stay home and work here in Washington, but Grandpa Max wants to spend some time with you and Hank, so you're going on a trip to Ohio and Minnesota. It's going to be so much fun, isn't it, Grandpa?" Brennan glanced at her father, who nodded vigorously in agreement. "You haven't been to either of those states yet, and you're going to meet some of your cousins in Minnesota for the very first time. It's just like making new friends. We'll all go on the next trip together, okay? So, no more crying, please." Brennan daubed at her daughter's rosy cheeks with a tissue. "You can call Daddy and me every night and tell us all the things you did that day, okay? Then, when you get back, we can sit down together and write a story about your trip. We'll ask Aunt Angela to draw some pictures for us to go with the story and then we can make it into a book and look at it whenever we want."

Sniffling a bit, Christine finally nodded in agreement. "Okay, I guess going on a trip with Grandpa would be fun if we can write a story about it. Can I take my purple elephant with me?"

"Of course you can, Sweetheart, and a few of your favorite books if you want. Let's go pick out some things to put in your backpack." Soon Christine's bag was packed, and it was time for them to leave.

Max tried to wear a big grin as they went out to load up the car. Brennan reached into the back seat to buckle Hank and Christine safely into their car seats, and then she gave each child a kiss. She brushed away a tear as she straightened up to face her father.

"Be careful, Max. Please call often…" She turned away, blinking back her tears.

"I know this is hard, Honey, but Booth is right. We need to get the kids out of the danger zone. I'll be back as soon as I get the all clear." Max caressed his daughter's cheek. "You two just be careful, okay?"

"Of course we will, Max." She waved as she watched as he backed the car out of the driveway, knowing that taking the children out of town was the rational thing to do, but hating it anyway. She finally turned to go back into the house, making sure to lock the door behind her.

Brennan had no idea that a figure hiding in the shadows had witnessed the little family drama while standing across the street. Nodding and chuckling softly, the figure walked quietly away, contemplating what had just occurred. "So the old man is taking the kids away, probably trying to keep them from harm's way. That's good. I really don't want too much collateral damage...although the scars caused by the death of their parents will linger with the children for the rest of their lives. I guess I'll just have to be satisfied with that."

oooooooooo

 _Thanks for reading. If you have time to leave a review, it would be appreciated._


	7. Chapter 7 Where is The Child?

_A/N: Just some clarification...Hannah Burley and Snezhana Biryukova are the same person. In this story, Snezhana is the name her Russian family gave her._

 _Thanks for reading. If you have time to leave a review, I'd appreciate it._

 _oooooooooo_

Booth and Aubrey found Special Agent Bill Weis standing in front of the interrogation room waiting for them. "Good job, Bill. How'd you manage to find the guy and bring him in? Was he jaywalking? Did he get caught spitting on the sidewalk?" Booth chuckled, grinning as he noticed that Weis fidgeting with a thick file folder. "Looks like you got a lot of stuff on this guy. I can't imagine that he just volunteered to pay us a visit. C'mon, what story did you cook up this time?"

"Well, the thing is, Booth...er, I mean...Director...sir...it's kind of a funny story. I had some help...I had some of my contacts and informants put the word out that I was looking for the head of the Russian mafia in DC...that I'd pay for intel on him, since I didn't know his name, or anything else that would point us in the right direction. That was right after you called me, asking me to find him. A few hours later, one of my guys on the street calls me and says the guy who's supposed to be head of the organization wants to meet with me personally, and of course, I said fine, whatever, like the guy's gonna just waltz into my office on his own, right? So imagine my surprise when this guy and his wife, they show up with their lawyer at my office here in the Hoover about an hour ago, asking me to help them. They've got some sort of bad family issue they need help with, it seems, so they wanted to come in to discuss it with me, even though we've got all this RICO stuff we're trying to make stick on the guy." Weis motioned to the one way window as they entered the observation area adjacent to the interrogation room, laying the file on a nearby counter. Crossing his arms over his chest, he watched the visitors for a few minutes, trying to get a feel for their state of mind. "They don't look like mobsters, do they? They look like regular folks. The taller blonde man is our guy, according to my source. He's married to the woman. The older, shorter guy is their lawyer."

"Great. Hey, good job getting the guy to come in. I'm gonna take over on this one now, Bill, but I want you and Aubrey to come with me while I do the interrogation." Booth picked up the file and walked toward the door leading to the other room.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Booth?!", Weis growled angrily, "You need to back the hell off! This is my collar! I've got hundreds of open RICO cases I hope to tie to him, and you're just gonna barge in on my territory? I don't think there's any goddamn way that's gonna happen…"

Booth turned back to Weis and gave him a condescending smirk. "I think you've forgotten something, Bill. I'm the Deputy Director here, so in this situation, I'm the lead investigator. What I say goes, understand? So do you wanna come with me or not? When I finish asking my questions, you can have at him."

"Actually, Director Booth…", Aubrey began calmly, in an effort to diffuse tension between the two men, "It might be better to start with Agent Weis making the introductions and asking a few general questions since these people came here specifically to see him. If you go in there, angry as hell, with guns blazing, accusing them of something like Ms. Burley's murder, we may lose any rapport that he has already been built with them. They'll put up their defenses, and we won't get anything else from them."

Glaring at both of the agents in front of him, Booth paused for a few seconds, finally realizing just how agitated he really was at that very minute. _I gotta step back...I can't let my emotions get the better of me now..._ "You're probably right, Aubrey." He exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. "Okay...We'll do it your way. Let's go find out why these people came to see you, Bill, and we'll go from there." Booth reluctantly handed the file back to Agent Weis and gestured for him to lead the way.

As they walked into the interrogation room, Booth took a minute to gather some impressions of the people waiting for them. The taller man and his wife were probably in their mid-thirties, both attractive pale blondes with bright blue eyes and delicate elfin features that somehow seemed to match their tall, slender frames. The man who was identified as their lawyer was probably in his early fifties, shorter and more heavily built, with thick salt and pepper hair and stern black eyes peering out from under heavy black eyebrows. _I bet the lawyer is ex-military...he's got that kind of bearing...probably the Russian war against Afghan insurgents, I'd guess..._ They all seemed to be extremely nervous, particularly the woman, who was constantly using a handkerchief to dab at her red rimmed eyes. _Interesting._ Booth thought. _Why would he bring his wife to an interrogation about criminal activity...especially when she seems so upset? That sure as hell makes him look guilty..._

Agent Weis cleared his throat and began to make the introductions. "Mr. and Mrs. Chernikov, may I present Special Agent James Aubrey and Deputy Director Seeley Booth..." Mr. Chernikov nodded with cold courtesy as he stood and reached across the table to shake hands, taking a few seconds to glower at Booth. Agent Weis turned to Booth and Aubrey. "This is Pyotr Chernikov and his wife Irina, and this gentleman is Sergei Tyomkin, their attorney."

Tyomkin gave Weis a surly glare as he gestured toward Booth and Aubrey. "Why are these men here, sir? Do they have information that can help us with our problem? We came willingly to your office to seek your assistance, Agent Weis, and now my clients are being treated like common criminals. We've been waiting almost an hour in this interrogation room, for what? They've done nothing wrong, so please, allow us to hear your information and then let us leave so we may decide what to do with it."

"What information?" Booth turned to Weis. "What information do you have for these people, Bill? I thought we were going to get information from him." Booth nodded toward Chernikov. "He's in charge of the organization we're interested in, isn't he?"

Irina sobbed and grabbed her husband's arm as she said something quietly in Russian to her husband. He comforted her, patting her hand as he replied to her in soothing tones. Turning to Weis, he scowled. "Sir, I must insist...what information do you have about our child? As you can see, my wife is quite distraught about the situation..."

Aubrey and Booth looked at each other in confusion. "Child?" Booth looked pointedly at Agent Weis again. "What is going on, Bill? What child are they talking about?"

"Our child is missing...we haven't heard from him or from the woman who was staying with him for several days." Chernikov sighed as he stared at the table in front of him. "We are afraid for their safety. I think something has gone terribly wrong…"

"What do you know about Dmitri Vladov?" Agent Weis tried to show Chernikov a picture, but the younger man brushed it aside.

"Dmitri Vladov is my mother's father...my _deda..._ my grandfather. He was released from prison recently because his health is very bad and the federal government no longer wishes to pay for his care. This man…" he pointed at Booth, "...this is the man who arrested him on trumped up charges. He was an old man when he went to prison several years ago, and now his physical health and his mental capacity are ruined. We do not even bother to take my grandfather to see his parole officer any more, because the poor old man can no longer speak. He sits in his room at my house, rocking in his chair, staring out the window. He speaks to no one, not even his great grandson, whom he adores…he does nothing... just rocking, rocking... you did that to him, Director Booth."

"He did it to himself when he chose to break this country's federal laws on the importation of alcoholic beverages." Booth sat back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, scowling at the man across the table from him. "I suppose you're an honest man, and you gave up the illegal part of the family business long ago, right? You're a good church going man, right? Probably a pillar of the community..."

"I'm sure you've looked up my client's import license before you came here, Director Booth.", Tyomkin interrupted, obviously angry. "There's no solid forensic evidence that he's broken any laws. His business has operated in this country legally for the last eight years. Do you think he'd ask for your agency's help in finding his child if he was a felon? If he was doing things illegally, he would have sought help in finding his son through less savory channels than the FBI."

"Yes, we've checked the license, and there have been no complaints as far as we can tell. The import business seems to be clean, but it could just be a cover." Weis opened the thick file folder and leafed through some papers. "However, we have other things we need to discuss as well. The information we've obtained from various sources leads us to believe, Mr. Chernikov, that you're the head of the Russian Mafia in DC. I want to know about the prostitution, drugs, and gambling operations your organization seems to run in Little Moscow. The import business itself may be legal, but here's the big question: do you launder money from these other 'business activities' through the import business?"

Tyomkin stared balefully at Weis. "You are on shaky ground with your accusations, sir. There is no solid evidence that Mr. Chernikov has any knowledge of those operations…it's only gossip from jealous competitors..."

Weis slapped the folder with his hand as his voice rose in anger. "But he knows who does have that knowledge, doesn't he? He gets his cut from the criminal activities and runs the money through the import/export company to make it look like a legitimate business…" The angry dispute between the men was interrupted by the soft keening wail of the woman sitting at the table.

"Pyotr...my baby. I want to find my baby." Irina spoke softly in heavily accented English, weeping as she grabbed her husband's arm again. "Please, Pyotr, make these men help us. I don't care about our business money right now. I just want my son. He's been gone too long, and I'm scared for him..."

Suddenly, Booth's gut went into overdrive, and he knew without a doubt what had happened. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a copy of the photograph that the housekeeper, Mrs. Jordan, had given him a few days ago and placed it on the table in front of their visitors. "Is this your son, Mr. and Mrs. Chernikov?"

"Yes, that's my boy and my cousin Snezhana. Where did you get this photograph? I've never seen it before." Chernikov showed the picture to his wife, who began to cry fresh tears.

Glancing at Booth, Aubrey pursed his lips and inhaled deeply as he stared at the file folder in front of Agent Weis. _God, I hate this part…._ "We were given this picture by your cousin's housekeeper." Grimacing as he looked up at the people across the table from him, Aubrey continued slowly. "Unfortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Chernikov, your cousin has died...she was murdered a few days ago at the house where she was staying here in DC. We had no indication that she had any surviving family members, so we were unable to notify you earlier, sir. We're very sorry that you had to find out about her death in this manner, and for your loss. We don't know where the child is at this time, but we have no to reason to believe he is deceased. We do think, however, that whoever killed Ms. Burley has taken him."

Booth watched the reaction of the people sitting across from him, and he saw the shock and horror that rumbled through them as they processed the news they'd just heard. He hesitated for a few seconds, giving them a chance to get past their initial shock, before giving them more information. "Our forensic analysis tells us that Hannah was shot in the face at close range with a KS 23, which, as I'm sure you know, is the sort of gun often used by members of Russian organized crime families…."

"How could this happen? Oh, my God...and the child? You did not find the child at the house? Where is my son?!" Chernikov sprang from his chair and began to pace the room, wringing his hands, enraged by the news he'd just heard. "I know I have enemies among some of those Russian families which are involved in criminal activities in this city, but to kill a defenseless woman and steal a child? No! This crime was not committed by a member of any supposed Russian mafia organization, gentlemen...I don't care what kind of gun was used to kill Snezhana! I can guarantee that!" His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "We are businessmen, not savages! This is _not_ how we settle our disputes. We do not attack innocents. Our disputes are settled man to man! It must be some other group that engages in organized crime...perhaps the Salvadorans or the Tong...maybe someone supplied them with illegal Russian weapons..." Chernikov turned and barked an order in Russian to his lawyer, who then quickly rose from his chair, phone in hand, and quietly left the room. Exhaling slowly to calm himself, Chernikov sat down next to his weeping wife and put his arm around her to console her, whispering to her gently in Russian.

"You said that Hannah...um, Snezhana was your cousin, Mr. Chernikov?" Booth pulled out his note cards and pen, jotting down information as he listened. "Could you give us some more information on your relationship, please? Who your parents were, things like that..."

"My father and her mother were brother and sister. My aunt died in an accident when Snezhana was quite young...four or five years old, I think. My own mother died many years ago, when I was very young. I have not heard from my father for several years, but he is still living as far as I know. He retired many years ago to Venezuela, which is why I take care of my grandfather now."

Booth glanced at Aubrey to see if he understood...the elder Chernikov had probably left the country to avoid some sort of federal prosecution. Aubrey nodded and made a note in the file to see if they could find out what charges had been laid against him.

"Is Hannah's father still living?" Aubrey paused slightly, wondering if her cousin knew the truth about Hannah's parents.

"My uncle...the man my aunt was married to...lives in a suburb outside of Moscow. He is in poor health, and we do not hear from him often. Snezhana's biological father...the man who impregnated my aunt...I don't know where he is. I think perhaps some of my father's older brothers made sure he disappeared permanently." Chernikov glared scornfully across the table at the surprised agents. He continued with an overtone of defiance in his voice. "That man was a disgusting pig...he seduced my aunt and got her pregnant, just as he had seduced many other unsuspecting women...when my aunt died, her husband in his grief soon left for Moscow, and the man...Mr. Buckley...he and his wife adopted Snezhana, but he was not a good parent. He abandoned his wife and child for another woman, so he was made to pay the price for his indiscretion."

"So your family knew about circumstances surrounding Hannah's birth?" Booth was astonished. He began to realize just how little he had actually known about Hannah, even after living with her for several months.

"Of course. We are Russian...our family is most important to us." Chernikov let a mirthless smile play across his lips as he focused on the man across the table from him. "I also know about your romantic relationship with her, Director Booth. She told me everything...even that you proposed marriage to her, but Snezhana had come to her senses quickly about her affair with you and turned you down. Did she let you down easy? Did she tell you she wasn't the marrying kind? She was just being kind. Perhaps she finally realized you couldn't provide the lifestyle she wanted. In reality, you're just a dull policeman, aren't you? The relationship wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway. Snezhana always craved excitement. She liked to have what she called 'flings'...short relationships... with many different men. She knew that if she were to marry, she'd need a man with power and money who would not tie her down to an ordinary existence and the drudgery that goes with being the average American housewife." Laughing as he saw the angry expression on Booth's face, the man turned to his wife. "However, Snezhana, for all her wild living, did us a favor, didn't she, my dear?" Chernikov smiled lovingly at his wife, who sniffled slightly as he stroked her hand. "Irina has suffered four miscarriages. She is not able to carry a child in her womb long enough for it to survive, so my cousin offered to be our surrogate mother. She carried our child for us, giving birth to our son almost eight years ago."

Clearing his throat, Aubrey reached over to tap the picture that lay on the table. "Pardon me for being indelicate, Mr. and Mrs. Chernikov, but this child...was he the product of in vitro fertilization? Because he…." Aubrey couldn't help but stare at the image. The resemblance between Hannah and her cousin Pyotr was obvious, but the child with the dark brown hair and laughing brown eyes didn't look like them at all. Aubrey bit his tongue as he glanced at the deputy director again, seeing the obvious resemblance between Booth and the child in the picture. _No wonder Booth is so agitated..._

Chernikov chuckled softly as he ran his fingers across the edge of the photograph. "Because he doesn't look like Irina or me? He looks more like my good friend Sergei Andreyevich Tyomkin, yes?" Tyomkin had come back into the room in the middle of the conversation and looked at his client in confusion and surprise. "Or perhaps you think he looks like Director Booth? Snezhana often teased me about how my son looked so different from me. Yes, it was in vitro fertilization at a clinic here in DC." Brushing away a tear, he help up the picture of the boy for Aubrey to see. "I believe my son looks like my grandfather Vladov. Director Booth has met him. My son looks like him." Chernikov smiled as he handed the picture back to Booth and put his arm around his wife again. "I'm told that genetics can be hard to predict."

Aubrey opened the file folder again. "Would you please give us the name of the doctor that assisted you with the in vitro fertilization?"

Irina shyly glanced up at her husband, who smiled sweetly and nodded for her to continue. "Her name is Dr. Elena Apalkova. I chose her clinic because Snezhana recommended her. The doctor is from Russia, and it was easy to talk to her. My English is very bad…"

Booth gave the woman a gentle smile. "Your English is fine. You said the child's name is…"

She meekly gestured for the men to hand her a pen and some paper. She spoke softly as she spelled out her son's name. "Vasily Iosef Biryukov. We gave our son Snezhana's Russian surname to avoid this sort of problem...to keep him from danger, but it did not work, did it? His birthday is March 30, 2011.", Irina sobbed.

Holding up his hand, Aubrey interrupted Mrs. Chernikov as he looked at the flowing Cyrillic script. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Chernikov. I know you're upset, but could you please tell us again how your son's name is pronounced?" He already knew the answer, but he wondered if Booth had understood what the woman had said.

Mr. Chernikov pursed his lips and hesitated before he spoke, reaching for his wife's hand so he could comfort her again. "Snezhana asked us for no money to be our surrogate mother. All she asked was for her medical expenses to be paid and that we give our child a certain name which she said she had chosen with great care...and now I know why. Our son's first name is pronounced _vah SEE lee,_ and instead of the patronymic Petrovich, which would have been expected in a Russian family, she chose a middle name that is pronounced ee OH seef." Chernikov smiled weakly as he turned to the man sitting across from him. "I believe she named our son after you, Director Booth. She named him Seeley Joseph."


	8. Chapter 8 Looking for Evidence

_Thanks for reading. This chapter is a bit longer than normal, but there was no good place to break it into smaller sections. If you have time to leave a review, I'd appreciate it._

Hodgins and Cam stood leaning over the lab table which held the prone remains of Nataliya Jordan. "We know she was shot, Hodgins.", Cam began. "The bullet wounds to her back are obvious. However, there are a few things that make this case unusual. Let me show you…" She bent over to cut away the bloody blouse from the woman's body. "The placement of the wounds is precise...one in the thoracic area of the spine, and one through the upper middle section of the left side of the chest, in the intercostal space between the third and fourth rib and then into the heart. These weren't just lucky shots...they were precisely aimed by someone who knew exactly what they were doing...probably someone with some sort of Special Forces training. Also, it looks like the killer tried to gouge out the rounds so we couldn't identify the gun that was used, but the bullets were too deep in the body. It's possible the murderer was interrupted before he could complete the job, especially since Pembroke Park is a very busy place." Cam shook her head as she looked at Hodgins. "Our victim never stood a chance. My guess is that she turned her back on the wrong person."

"How long had she been dead when the body was discovered the next morning, Cam?" Hodgins asked, shifting carefully on his crutches as he reached over the body to take samples from the wounds so he could test for particulates. "There doesn't appear to be much insect activity on the body...just a few blowflies. It looks like the cafeteria had just opened for our little friends." He chuckled at his joke until he saw the appalled look on Cam's face. "Sorry...entomology humor...it's an acquired taste…"

Cam glanced at the body as she estimated time of death. "Based on lividity, she'd been dead between ten to twelve hours. She probably died a few hours after she talked to Booth and Brennan at the house where Hannah was shot. Booth said an agent took her home between four and five pm. I'm fairly sure that's not a coincidence, but I don't know how we're going to be able to link the crimes together, other than this victim was Hannah's housekeeper."

Hodgins was clearly surprised. "Pembroke Park is a very busy place, even at that time of night. It was probably...what...seven or eight pm on a pleasant Friday evening? I'm sure there were a lot of people there. How could our killer have shot someone in that sort of environment without calling attention to himself? And why not shoot her in the head?"

Shrugging her shoulders as she took some tissue samples from the body, Cam explained their theory. "Booth thinks the killer must've used some sort of silencer. The lack of blood in the area where the body was found indicates that she was shot somewhere else and dumped in the area where the jogger saw her body, almost like it was arranged for someone to find it. The victim's keys, purse, money...everything was left with the body, so it wasn't a robbery. Maybe the murderer didn't aim for her head because he knew he wanted to retrieve the bullets to make it harder to identify the gun. Shooting her in the back would make that easier, but he still wasn't successful."

Hodgins looked at the body thoughtfully. "Even with a silencer, there'd still be some sound or a puff of smoke, or maybe a spark of some sort. I can't imagine nobody heard or saw anything like that."

"I know...it's weird. I don't understand it, either." Cam picked up her tray of tissue samples. "Dr. Hodgins, make sure you check for gunshot residue deep inside the wounds. I'm concerned that the knife used on the wounds has damaged any evidence that was left on the skin's surface. Even if he couldn't remove the rounds, he managed to compromise any evidence left by the gun. I'm going to run some tox screens and the rest of the usual tests on the liver and check the DNA, just to be sure we've got all the information we need for this case."

Nodding, Hodgins agreed. "I'll take samples of her clothing, too. There should be some gun powder and other trace evidence on her blouse. When the bones are cleaned, I want to run an isotopic analysis to find out if she was actually from Russia."

"Good idea. I'm sure Dr. Brennan will want us to be as thorough as possible, given Booth's stake in this case." Cam sighed as she surveyed the remains. "This whole thing is such a mess...We need to figure this out soon, Hodgins…."

Oooooooooo

Booth trudged into the kitchen after work that evening, exhausted from the past few days. "Hiya, Bones." He enfolded his wife into his arms and kissed her gently. "How'ya doin' this evening?"

She sniffled slightly, then set her jaw firmly, blinking away tears as she tried to be brave in spite of the fear that was nagging at her. "I find that I miss Christine and Hank very much. Our house is far too quiet when they're not home. However, I'm not angry with you for suggesting that they leave. I completely understand why you insisted that Max take them out of town for a few days." She paused to brush away her tears as she snuggled up against Booth, enjoying the feeling of being gently held against his broad, muscular chest. "I know I'm not being rational, but I'm so worried about the children...even though I know Max will do everything he can to keep them safe." She smiled weakly at her husband as she stroked his cheek. "How are you doing, Booth?"

He looked into the blue eyes he loved so much and sighed deeply. "I'm exhausted...confused...sad...I miss the kids, too…and I'm not being very rational, either." He closed his eyes as his forehead rested against Brennan's. "I'm still not sure I completely understand everything that's happened the last few days. I'm still upset because we don't know where the child is or what Hannah was mixed up in. I can't figure out where the Chernikovs fit into the story, either, or how all of this relates to you and me. It's so hard to believe that Hannah's cousin lived in the same city as we did and she never told me about him...that she never introduced us. And they didn't even know Hannah was dead...I don't know how they could've missed that report on the news..."

"Well, maybe Hannah was concerned that her cousin's business really was illegal, and she didn't want you to be put in the uncomfortable predicament of trying to choose between doing your job faithfully or keeping your girlfriend and her family happy." Brennan handed her husband a glass of Scotch and poured a glass of wine for herself. "To me, that seems like a reasonable hypothesis...and since the Chernikovs been so worried about their child being missing, they may not have watched the news on television, or if they did, they didn't make the connection. They knew Hannah by her Russian name instead of her television name."

Booth nodded, caressing his wife as she sipped her wine. "You're so smart, Bones. I bet you could solve this whole case by yourself. You probably don't even need the FBI, do you?"

"I'm smart enough to do a lot of the investigative work on this case, but I'm not sure I could completely solve it by myself...I'd still need you to help me, Booth. However, there are some things I can explain to you that might clarify things as far as the Chernikovs' situation. Would you like me to do that?" Brennan chuckled when she saw the sad puppy expression on Booth's face as he nodded in agreement. "Okay, let's lay these pictures out on the counter." She took several photographs out of a file folder and laid them out side by side. "Here's Hannah, Pyotr, who is Hannah's cousin, and Pyotr's wife Irina, right?" Booth nodded as he looked over the pictures. "And here's my handsome husband…and here's the little boy, Vasily, right?"

"Yep." He put his arm around her waist and winked at her. "You really think I'm handsome?"

"Of course, I think you're handsome. Now look…" Brennan pointed at the photographs. "Hannah and Pyotr have similar genetic traits because they're closely related, being first cousins. The resemblance between them is actually quite remarkable. They could almost be mistaken for brother and sister. Irina also has some of the same genetic traits as Pyotr and Hannah, but I don't believe she is related to Pyotr, other than by marriage. I think he was just attracted to someone who looks like the other women in his family."

"So, you mean, they look alike because of their coloring? They all have really blue eyes, pale complexions, and the same shade of blonde hair...to me they look almost identical to each other.." Booth shrugged as he studied the pictures, unsure of what he was supposed to be noticing.

"It's true that there are many physical similarities between the three of them, Booth. Irina does resemble Hannah in many ways, but there are other characteristics that we should consider. For example, Hannah has dimples, but Pyotr and Irina do not. Dimples are genetically dominant, so that fact that Vasily has dimples might be explained by Hannah's participation in the pregnancy, except for the fact that Hannah was the type of surrogate that simply carried the fetus to term for Pyotr and Irina. The egg cells that were fertilized came from Irina, not Hannah. Therefore, Vasily should not have dimples."

"But he does! Right here…" Booth pointed at the little boy's happy smile in the photograph. Hesitating slightly, he continued. "His eyes are brown instead of blue. What does that mean?"

"Brown eye color and dark hair are normally dominant over blue eyes and blonde hair, although there are several genetic factors that can determine eye and hair color. The color itself isn't unusual, especially since Pyotr's grandfather has brown hair and brown eyes. However, look at his ears…" Brennan pointed to the child's earlobes. "Vasily's earlobes are free hanging, like yours, which is the dominant genetic trait. Both Pyotr and Irina have attached earlobes, the recessive trait, so they couldn't have passed this dominant trait to Vasily." Smiling, Brennan turned to look up at her husband's face and lovingly ran her fingers gently across his chin. "Irina and Pyotr both have narrow, pointed chins, but Vasily has a broad, rounded chin with a noticeable mental protuberance and a slight cleft. He has the same angle on his zygomatic arches as yours…the strong nasal root….the same brow ridge...and almost the same amount of bilateral symmetry." She ran her finger along Booth's forehead. "Vasily has a facial bone structure that is almost identical to yours, Booth…The angle of Irina's zygomatic arch, while prominent, is quite different than Vasily's, and neither Pyotr or Irina have a prominent nasal root or heavy brow ridge like you do."

"Hey! I thought you said I was handsome! You sure don't make it sound that way...talking about my face bones that way!" Booth grimaced slightly as ran his fingers down his face, hesitating before he spoke softly. "So what you're saying is that Vasily is really my son. Jesus, Bones…I mean..."

She held up her hand to interrupt him. "I believe that, yes, genetically speaking, Vasily is actually your son. However, given his date of birth, you did not physically impregnate Hannah. Your relationship with Hannah had been over for almost three months at the time she became pregnant."

Booth stood gaping in shock for a few seconds. "So how did that happen? Oh my God...I know how…" Booth sighed and shook his head at his wife. "My stuff…"

"Exactly. When Angela first suggested that scenario to me, I discounted it as unlikely, but now it seems to be the only rational explanation. Somehow Hannah found out about the semen donation you'd made for me a few years before you met her, when I had decided that I wanted you to father a child for me." Brennan crossed her arms protectively across her chest as she chewed the inside of her cheek. "Did you tell Hannah about that? That I wanted you to be the father of my child?"

"Hannah was an investigative reporter, Bones. There's lots of ways she could've found out about it…"

"Booth…" Brennan's stern glare burned into Booth's soul. "Did you tell Hannah that you had donated semen so that I could have a child? That we had discussed the possibility that you would be the father of my child before we knew about your brain tumor? Because I didn't tell her anything about it. I was trying to respect your relationship with her, and I believed that information would cause tension between you two. However, I also know that you felt it necessary to share everything about our past relationship with her...correct?"

He looked away from his wife, wanting to avoid the look of sadness and disappointment in her eyes. "What it comes down to, Bones, is that while I was in a relationship with Hannah, I was acting like a coward and a jerk, and I'm not proud of the way I treated you. When I was trying to explain our partnership...our relationship...you know, how things really were between you and me...to Hannah, I told her that we were very close friends...that we had done a lot of things to help each other, but I don't think I specifically told her about the semen donation…" Booth was clearly embarrassed as he turned away from his wife. "I wasn't sure she would understand about that, because it seemed like something a man would do for a woman he loved romantically instead of being something special between close friends. I was trying really hard to keep everything nice and simple between Hannah and me, so I didn't tell her about it. I'm sorry to say I felt ashamed that I had made a semen donation for you, Bones, and I felt like if I told Hannah, then she would know that I was so much in love with you that I would've done anything you asked me to do. I didn't want her to be angry with me or to feel awkward around you."

Brennan sighed as she contemplated what her husband had told her. "Well, I suppose that makes sense, Booth. I find that I'm quite relieved that you didn't tell her. I think that was the best choice you could've made, given the type of romantic relationship you had with her. She knew I loved you, and you're right...it would've been quite awkward for all of us, especially if she had decided to accept your proposal."

"Jesus, I didn't even think about what would've happened if she had said yes and then found out about that I had made a donation for you." Booth leaned down to kiss his wife. "I thank God everyday that she said no, Bones, I really do...but yeah, no matter what, things would've been really awkward if she knew about the donation. I was just trying to keep everybody happy, so I'm pretty sure I kept it a secret from her." His gloomy expression brightened a bit as he realized what happened. "I still had a land line and a phone answering machine when she lived with me, you know? The fertility clinic left a message for me one day to call them about some paperwork mix up or something like that. Hannah must've heard the message and gotten curious. If she called them…."

"The clinic wouldn't have given her the information, unless…" Brennan paused as she thought things through "...unless she said that she was me, or maybe if she said she was your wife…she may have gotten the identification password somehow..."

"And then what? She goes to see Dr. Apalkova and steals my stuff?" Booth was horrified at that idea. "Isn't it stored so people can't get at it easily? It's not like it sits out in some freezer case next to the ice cream…"

"I think it's more likely that she bribed Dr. Apalkova. Hannah probably made an appointment to see the doctor, and then, basically, she bought your semen sample from the clinic, and then had the doctor use that semen to fertilize Irina's eggs instead of using Pyotr's semen. The fertilized ovum was then implanted in her uterus. Then they replaced your sample with his, thinking that no one would be the wiser…"

"But why? Why would she do that? That's just crazy! Wouldn't she realize that Pyotr and Irina would figure things out as the child grew up?" Booth began nervously pacing the kitchen. "I can't believe this. And the worst thing about it is that she's dead, and we can't get any explanation for why she did this…"

Brennan sighed, sipping her wine as she watched her husband pace back and forth through the kitchen. "I think part of the reason she did this was because she really did love you, Booth, even if she didn't want to marry you, and she wanted to retain a piece of you in her life. I can understand her reasoning if that was the case. However, I feel fairly certain that there were other motives as well. We probably should pay a visit to Dr. Apalkova to discuss the situation with her. Do you think we need a warrant to do DNA testing on your semen samples? That way we could find out if our hypothesis about what happened is correct."

Booth spun around angrily with his hands on his hips. "I don't think we need any fucking warrant to run any kind of tests we want on those samples...it's still my stuff, and you and I get to decide what to do with it, right? Can't I just go collect it from the freezer, or wherever the hell they keep it, any time I want? It's not like I need to keep it at that damn clinic any longer anyway, you know? That's part of the deal. They store it for us if we need it...and then..."

"Are you sure you want to dispose of it, Booth?" Brennan began placing the pictures back in the folder, avoiding eye contact with her husband. "It's a part of you…"

"Well, yeah...aren't you sure that's what we should do? I think we should have the clinic get rid of it. It's not like we need it anymore. I mean, we've already got three kids, and if we want another one…well, there's plenty more where that donation came from, you know? After all, it's homemade, using only the finest ingredients..." Chuckling suggestively, he walked over and embraced his wife again as he twitched his eyebrows at her. "If we want another kid, I'll just do what Stewie recommended to me when I was hallucinating about him at the clinic. I'll just make a direct deposit." Booth grinned broadly as he leaned in to kiss Brennan again. "In fact, I think that's an excellent idea...such a great idea that maybe we should go fill out that deposit slip right now…if you know what I mean…"

Brennan giggled as she returned his kiss, caressing his well muscled arms and shoulders gently, and then slipping her hands under Booth's tee shirt so she could stroke his chest and abdomen. "I understand completely, and that gives me an idea...why don't we play a game this evening? How about bank teller and bank robber? You know...the robber can restrain the teller and hold her hostage for a while and then…" Brennan smiled demurely. "... maybe he can have his way with her. A little role play might help us relax…and since the children are away from home, we can be as noisy as we like without worrying about disturbing them." Arching her eyebrow suggestively, she sauntered away from him and in the direction of their bedroom.

"Sounds like a great plan...maybe we can take turns being the bad guy." Booth drained his glass of Scotch and licked his lips in anticipation of the evening's activities. "I'm just going to lock up and check to make sure the alarms are set correctly. I'll be there in a minute…"

A few hours later, Booth and Brennan lay in each other's embrace, tangled in the sheets as they panted from their exertion. "Jesus, Bones...you took that bank robber thing pretty seriously...but, God...I'll be your hostage any time you want!" Giving her a sultry smile, he reached over to brush her hair away from her face. "After all those orgasms you've had this evening, I guess you're feeling a lot less stressed now, right?" Grinning, he rolled onto his back and put his hands behind his head. "I know I'm feeling a lot better…"

"I imagine you are...you had a lot of pent up anger and frustration to get rid of. Are you sure you've managed to free yourself from all of it?" Brennan propped herself up on her elbow. "Because I'd be glad to assist you in releasing more of it if you find you're still tense…"

"Yeah, you know what? I still may be a bit tense….c'mere…let's finish working out those kinks..."

They were blissfully unaware of the silent figure moving quietly up the driveway toward their house. Creeping along furtively, the dark shape zigzagged in and out of the moonlight until it was standing close to the darkened front of the house. A hoarse laugh escaped from the shadows. "Not a lot of safety features in this fancy house...too many windows...it'll be easy in and easy out…no one will ever know who it was...except for me...poor little kids left without parents….a broken window will make it look like a burglary. They've been so busy fucking each other they won't even notice the sound of the glass breaking..."

The shadowy figure moved silently around to the side of the house, and reaching out with a gloved hand, broke one of the large panes of glass in the family room window with a small crowbar. Immediately, lights inside and outside the house blazed to life as the home's alarm system blared loudly. Caught off guard by the noise, the black shape ran back into the darkness and down the driveway to the street, breathing heavily as it hid in the hedges. "Son of a bitch...they've changed the alarm system. Okay, okay...we'll do better next time...the plan...remember the plan…"

Jumping up from the bed, Booth grabbed his phone and service revolver from the nightstand. "Stay here", he barked at his wife, knowing that she'd be following close at his heels anyway. He ran to the living room and, turning off the alarm, surveyed the damage. Turning to Brennan, he gave an exasperated sigh. "Some bastard tried to break into the house, but it looks like the alarm scared him off. Upgrading that alarm system was money well spent." His phone rang as he moved toward the window. "Booth...yeah. Yeah, we're okay, but send out a police officer, okay? Someone tried to break into my house...you've got the address, right? Okay. Yeah, not an emergency...okay, thanks." Looking over at his nude wife again, Booth wore a weak smile as he chuckled softly. "We might want to get dressed...the cops are on the way."

His phone rang again. "That's just great...it's Aubrey. The alarm company must've called him. Booth...hey, Aubrey...it's a little late to be calling...yeah, we had someone try to break into the house, but we're fine...What?! Son of a bitch...when? Yeah, okay...I'll tell Bones...send his body to the Jeffersonian...yes, I mean it. We're gonna bypass the locals this time. The FBI will handle this one. Yes, I'm sure. See you in the morning." Booth ended the call and rubbed his hand across his face.

"Booth...what's wrong? Who died?..." Brennan stood nervously fidgeting as she watched him process the information he'd just heard.

"Senator Camden...it looks like he hanged himself…."


	9. Chapter 9 A Nasty Business

Brennan stood on the lab platform next to the exam table, craning her neck side to side as she yawned and stretched in an effort to become more alert. She and Booth had only gotten a few hours of sleep after they'd talked to the police officers who'd come to investigate the aborted home breakin, which had occurred in the early hours of that morning. Knowing she had a lot of work to do at the lab, she'd had two large cups of coffee on the way to work, and she was anxiously looking forward the surge of energy she usually got from that much caffeine in her system. However, the caffeine had yet to take effect, and she was struggling mightily to stay awake. _So sleepy...I must focus...have to stay awake...cannot afford mistakes..._ Rubbing her eyes, she turned again to focus on the skeleton laid out on the table before her. The extensive amount of damage to the dorsal aspect of Mrs. Jordan's thoracic spine was quite obvious. It seemed that it had been redundant for the shooter to take the second shot which pierced the left ventricle of the woman's heart as well, leaving only a very slight nick on the third rib. _A trained assassin...a special forces operative...someone who knew what he was doing..._ That was what Cam had postulated after her initial inspection of the wounds as they appeared in the flesh, and after doing her own inspection on the skeleton, Brennan had agreed completely. It was quite disturbing to think that the killer had deliberately paralyzed Mrs. Jordan with the first bullet before shooting her through the heart, but it appeared to be the case. _What kind of sadistic person does this? He'll stop at nothing to complete his task...Black ops?...Maybe Booth will know...I'm so sleepy...I need to ask Booth about this...maybe later..._ She shook her head, trying to refocus her attention to the skeleton, but it was so hard to concentrate. _Surely it was a coincidence that someone tried to break into our house...not related to these cases...Booth says no coincidences...I need a nap...so much work...couldn't stay home...so sleepy..._

Brennan accessed the test results file at the computer station and checked the results of the isotopic analysis. Mrs. Jordan had evidently lived a large portion of her life in the suburban area around Moscow, Russia before coming to the United States, but the results were inconclusive as to the length of time she had lived there. Stretching and yawning again, Brennan looked back at the bones. _The bullet wound to the thoracic vertebrae looks strange...not what I would expect from a handgun..._ Finding herself nodding off as she stood in front of the computer, she decided to go back to her office for a few minutes, perhaps for a short nap…. _so sleepy...and they're going to bring Senator Camden's body in later this morning….perhaps I could lay down for just a few minutes in my office...no one would care...I'm so tired...just for a few minutes..._

"I found it!" Hodgins was beaming as he quickly pulled himself up the steps to the lab platform. "I know what kind of gun was used to kill Nataliya Jordan." He moved over to the computer and brought up another file. Tapping the screen, he turned and gave Brennan a triumphant look as he crowed, "Yes, once again, I am King of the Lab."

Brennan was less than impressed with his grand pronouncement as she tried to shake off her drowsiness. Rubbing her eyes, she moved to take a closer look at the picture on the monitor. "It's a pistol, Dr. Hodgins.", she grumbled. "There doesn't seem to be anything special about this particular pistol. It looks like any number of pistols that I've seen before…"

Hodgins, however, was bubbling over with excitement. "Actually, this pistol is probably different from anything you've ever seen before, Dr. Brennan. This is an OTS 38!" Hugely disappointed because Brennan wasn't eagerly sharing his enthusiasm, he tried to explain again, speaking in the rapid fire manner he normally used when he was excited about finding some sort of unusual insect. "Aw, come on, Brennan! This is exciting! Okay, look...this is a Stechkin Silent Revolver!" Hodgins jabbed at the monitor as he explained. "This is why no one at the park heard the shot or saw anything like a spark or a flash when Mrs. Jordan was shot. It uses a captive piston action, so it doesn't discharge the spent shells, and the propellant gases stay in the cylinder. There's no fire, no smoke, and no report from this gun!"

"So if the gun that was used to kill the victim is this specific type of revolver, it might also explain why the wounds look somewhat different than normal." Brennan nodded as she turned back toward the skeleton. "Of course, the killer used a large knife on the wounds as well, which left some damage on the surrounding bone. I assume you were able to check the striations on the bullets after Cam removed them from the body?"

"Of course. That's how I figured out what kind of pistol we were dealing with, but that's not even the most interesting part!" Hodgins was practically vibrating with excitement about his discovery. "This pistol is of Russian origin! It's used by their Army and their special ops guys because of the stealth factor it provides."

"So the guns that were used to kill both Hannah and Mrs. Jordan are of Russian origin?" Brennan's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Have you sent this information to Booth?"

Hodgins nodded as he turned back to his computer. "Yeah, I gave him all the specs in an email. It's really unusual to find a pistol like this in the US. There are similar American versions of this pistol, but based on the gunpowder residue left on the victim's clothing, I'm almost positive this gun is Russian. I think it's likely whoever used the KS 23 is the same person who used this gun."

"That's merely speculation, Dr. Hodgins. We have nothing to tie these weapons together except their country of origin." Brennan's mouth twisted into a slightly disapproving grimace. "We also have very little forensic evidence to show that these crimes are related. It could be merely a coincidence that the two women died within hours of each other."

"Come on, Dr. Brennan...think about it." Hodgins shook his head as he ran through the facts for her. "We have three people who've all died under mysterious circumstances, and all three of them have ties to that house at 22 Hickory Lane. We know for sure that two of the three people were murdered, and I won't be surprised if Senator Camden's autopsy shows us that he was murdered as well. There is no way that these crimes are all the result of a single set of coincidences. The probability of that type of coincidence occurring would be…"

"Astronomical." Brennan rolled her eyes at her coworker and sighed audibly. "Yes, I know, Jack. However, I would prefer that we simply focus on gathering the all of the facts pertinent to the case, which we will then send to the FBI for their interpretation. If we concentrate solely on the facts, we are less likely to miss something important merely because we think it doesn't fit in our favorite scenario."

"You're right, of course, Dr. Brennan. I'm sorry...I guess I got a little bit carried away, seeing as how I identified the weapon and all." Hodgins grinned sheepishly as he winked at Brennan. "I'll go back and look through my particulate samples again and see what I can find that might tie the cases together."

"Thank you, Dr. Hodgins." Brennan exhaled softly as she ran her hand across her eyelids. "I'm quite tired. Someone attempted to break into our house very early this morning, and we didn't get much sleep." She yawned and stretched again. "I'm going to my office for a few minutes to relax before Senator Camden's body arrives. Let me know if you find out anything new about the guns."

"Wow...a breakin? That's scary! I hope everything's okay..." Seeing Brennan's shrug as an affirmative answer, Hodgins closed down the computer at the lab station. "I'll swab Mrs. Jordan's wounds for particulates again. Maybe I can figure out what kind of knife the killer used when he tried to remove the bullets. If it there are any particulates from the knife left on the bone, I may be able to determine the knife's country of origin, too." He limped down the steps of the platform toward his office. Yawning once again, Brennan rubbed her eyes once more and went to her office to get some rest.

Oooooooooo

"Hey, Booth. Bad night, huh?" Aubrey stood in the doorway holding a stack of file folders.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. That attempted break in sure messed up our evening." Booth groaned as he leaned back into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What've you got for me, Aubrey? Was the senator's death a suicide?"

"I'm not sure." Aubrey walked into the Deputy Director's office and put a file on his desk. "Those are the photos from the scene at the Hickory Lane house. The guys who had the Senator under surveillance followed him there, but they didn't think much of it since the guy owns the house. They just assumed he was gonna spend the night in his own house for a change, or maybe he was going to check on the progress that had been made toward cleaning it up after the murder. No big deal, right? They watched the house for a couple of hours, and nothing much happened, so it's possible they may not have been completely paying attention, but around midnight they realized all of the indoor and outdoor lights at the house were still on, and they decided to check on the Senator. They found his body hanging from a tree in the backyard. He'd probably been dead a couple of hours." Aubrey blew out a disgusted sigh. His surveillance guys were gonna have hell to pay on this one when Deputy Director Booth got through with them. "I already put those two guys on notice that you're gonna want to have a little chat with both of them. I told them that I imagined they'd be suspended without pay, if not fired…"

"Goddammit! It's not gonna be a good thing if word gets out that the Senator died while under FBI surveillance. This is a major fuck up, and it makes us look mighty stupid, Aubrey. And yeah, there will definitely be a performance review on those two agents. Unless they have really good explanations for their negligence, I imagine they'll both be looking for different jobs very soon." Booth angrily picked up the file and looked through the pictures that the FBI techs had taken from the scene of the senator's death. He scowled as he tossed the folder down on his desk. "Okay...nothing we can do about this right now, I suppose, except maybe some damage control if the story makes its way to the press...you know, something like we had no idea the senator was suicidal, yada, yada, yada. No matter what happens with that problem, we need to ask the squints at the lab to do a complete autopsy on Senator Camden. That's why I wanted his body sent to the Jeffersonian. They can usually determine if the cause of death was actually hanging or if it was something else, and they'll do tox screens and the whole nine yards to look for anything suspicious that might point to something besides suicide. They'll call us as soon as they know anything." Booth yawned and tried to stretch his neck and shoulders. "Yeah, it was a real rough night last night. The locals got to our house pretty quickly after the alarm company contacted them, and we told them all we could, which wasn't much, really...we heard the window break and then the alarm came on. Bones was pretty upset that they didn't bring a forensics team to work the premises, but I kept trying to tell her that a failed robbery attempt is a low priority. After the cops left, she tried to dust the broken window pane for prints, but she didn't have much luck." Puffing out a sigh, he looked through the file again and pulled out a picture. "Hmm...It looks like Camden used a step ladder to reach that tree branch, and then he kicked it away from himself. See...there it is below the body...that angle it's laying at looks funny, though. I think it's strange that he'd hang himself outside, you know? I mean, why not just jump off the upstairs landing? Why hang himself at all? Why not use a gun or sleeping pills? If he wanted to commit suicide there are easier ways to do it. Did he leave any sort of suicide note?"

"We haven't found one yet, but the techs are still going over the house looking for one. Anyway, I think I know why the Senator might've wanted to kill himself. Look at this." Aubrey pulled up a grainy video on his phone. "The cyber guys found the link for it online this morning. This video clip is a movie of the Senator with some of his newest friends as they took part in some play time." The Senator appeared to be nude, or at the most, in his boxers, lying in a king sized bed surrounded by four nude preteen girls engaged in various forms of sexual activity with him and with each other. "This video was featured in a somewhat more sanitized form on the six o'clock news broadcast on several television stations last night, and, of course, it's all over the internet for everyone to see. Agent Silas, who's in charge of the Crimes Against Children Unit, says those girls probably range in age from eleven to fourteen, and it's likely that most of them are here in the US illegally, via a human trafficking ring. Since the girls don't appear to be Asian, they're probably from some of the poorer countries in Eastern Europe. Either they were kidnapped or their parents sold them to whoever brought them here to the US."

"Jesus! That's disgusting! Who could do that type of thing with little girls?" Booth glanced at the video for a few seconds and felt like he might vomit. "But are we sure this video is even real?"

Aubrey shuddered in disgust as he put his phone back in his pocket. "I'm not sure what methods were used to verify that the video was real, but the cyber unit thinks it is. It seems to be true that the Senator was a pedophile. He evidently didn't have a preference...he liked young boys as well as young girls. Some families have come forward over the past few years and made complaints about his behavior toward their children, but it seems they must've been bought off so that information didn't see the light of day until this video came out. This video would've definitely ended his political career, and he'd most likely end up in prison for sex crimes. Maybe he knew what happens to pedophiles while they're in the general prison population. It's possible he couldn't face that situation, so he decided to end his life on his own instead."

"I guess that makes sense, but...something's just not right." Booth grimaced slightly as he gazed out his office window. "To me, it's too much of a coincidence that this video gets leaked to the press within days of Hannah's death. I think this was done on purpose to drive the Senator over the edge. He must've known who killed Hannah, and the killer decided to keep him quiet. The killer figured this video would make the Senator want to kill himself…or at the very least, it would make the Senator's murder look like it was a suicide and throw us off the trail for a while."

Aubrey fidgeted in his seat for a minute, thinking over Booth's theory. "We tried to pump the Senator for information about Hannah's murder when we brought him in for interrogation, but he wouldn't budge. If he knew who shot her, he was too afraid to tell us who it was."

"And rightly so, it seems." Booth shook his head as he closed the folder. "When will the senator's body be delivered to the Jeffersonian?"

Checking his watch, Aubrey nodded. "It should be there already." The younger man cleared his throat quietly as he checked his notes. "About those girls in the video...Agent Silas says she's seen them in kiddie porn videos before. She thinks they all belong to a Russian pimp named Mikhail Polzin, who specializes in selling preteen girls as prostitutes and to guys who make those kiddie porn videos. Agent Weis says word on the street is that Polzin works for one of the illegal branches of the Chernikov family business. They've been trying to bust him for months on human trafficking, but he's as slippery as an eel...and about as pleasant, I guess..."

"I don't believe this…could things possibly get any more complicated? So is Weis gonna bring this Mikhail guy in? It was probably him who shot the video…but he has no reason to leak it, does he? It'd make more sense for him to use it for extortion against the senator. It'd be much more profitable that way...unless he was in collusion with someone who wanted to push the senator towards suicide." Booth let out an exasperated sigh. "Jesus, what a mess…"

"Polzin seems to have dropped off the face of the Earth, just like Vladov did a few weeks ago. The guys in RICO have been looking for him for about a week or so, but it seems like he's gone...maybe he went back to Russia. Who knows? Weis said that nobody seems to know anything about Polzin, or if they do, they aren't talking, probably because they're scared. Convenient, right?"

"Yeah, real convenient. Well, I tell you what...let's just have my good friend Mr. Chernikov come back to the Hoover for a visit. Maybe he knows where Mikhail's gone off to…" Booth pulled out his phone to call Weis, but then he changed his mind. "Actually, Aubrey, let's do this instead. Call Lopez and McAnally and have them go talk to Chernikov in person about whether or not there's been a ransom demand for the return of his son, and then have them ask Chernikov if he knows Polzin, but tell them not to say why. Let's see what kind of reaction they get. I think they'll be able to get a better feel of things if they see him in person." Booth's phone rang. "Sorry, Aubrey...gotta take this. It's the guy who's gonna fix the window at our house…"

"Okay. I'll let you know what Lopez and McAnally find out." Aubrey waved as he quickly left Booth's office to make his own phone calls.

Oooooooooo

Brennan groaned as she rolled over on her office sofa and reached for her ringing phone. She'd finally been able to take a short nap, but instead of feeling rested and refreshed, she felt extremely groggy instead. When she finally found her phone, she saw that she'd missed a call from Booth.

"Booth? Did you call me?" She scratched her head as she tried to concentrate on what he was telling her.

"Yeah, listen. The guy from the glass company called and wants to know if he can change the appointment to be there at the house earlier this morning than he originally planned. I can't go let him in because I've got a goddamn budget meeting I have to go to...some sort of emergency. Probably somebody ran out of paperclips and can't afford to replace them or shit like that. Could you go let the repairman in? Please?" Booth chuckled suggestively. "I'll make it worth your while later this evening...we can finish where we left off last night…"

Giggling, Brennan sat up and tried to shake off her sleepiness as she ran her hand through her hair. "Well, if you put it that way, then...um, yes, I guess I can go take care of it. Your offer of compensation for my time is difficult to refuse. What time is it?" Brennan rubbed her eyes and shook her head, trying to wake up.

"It's 10:45, and he wants to come at 11:30." There was a short pause before Booth continued. "What's wrong? You sound funny."

"I'm just really sleepy for some reason. I think the coffee shop sold me decaf by mistake this morning...and we were really busy for several hours last night, remember? Bank robbing uses lots of energy, doesn't it?" Brennan chuckled as she leaned back against the couch. "I guess I can take an early lunch and go let the glazier in. I'll bring my laptop with me and do some work from home while I wait. Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it. Talk to you soon. Love you..."

"I love you, too. Hey, have him send the bill to the insurance company, okay? Talk to you soon."

Grabbing her bag, laptop, and phone, Brennan went by Cam's office to tell her that she'd be back in a couple of hours.

Oooooooooo

The driver of the large black SUV sat patiently waiting for his prey, like a spider waiting for a sweet little fly to bump into his web. He knew, sooner or later, the woman he was looking for would have to come to the parking garage for her car. It might not be until later in the afternoon, but he was there early in case she wanted to go out for lunch with her husband….it would be more efficient to find them together and do both of them at the same time, but...the driver knew that if anything fatal ever happened to the woman it would be the end of the man...the man wouldn't be able to bear her loss…it would be a very sad state of affairs for the man after the accident that claimed his wife...

Tapping his fingers restlessly on the steering wheel, the driver hummed to himself as he watched the door where he knew she would have to come out of the building to access the garage. Checking his watch, he realized it was still too early for her to leave, but he watched closely anyway...and found his patience rewarded. The woman was striding out to her car right now, her hands full with her belongings. Time to set the trap...he slowly moved the SUV into position a short distance from her car before he hit the speed dial on his phone. He was a predator who knew human nature, and he grinned as he watched her do what he knew she would do. She stopped in the middle of the pavement between the rows of cars to answer her phone, shifting the things in her hands, casually reaching into her pocket to find the noisy object, oblivious to her surroundings. The predator gunned the SUV and the massive vehicle accelerated toward her.

It was the sounds he heard that told him he was successful….the woman's scream as the tires squealed rapidly toward her, the crunch of bone as the truck passed over her...he drove away without slowing down, breaking through the lowered gate and smiling as he glanced in the rearview mirror, watching as the horrified people crowded around Temperance Brennan as she lay on the floor of the parking garage.


	10. Chapter 10 A Threat from the Past

"Where is she?! Dr. Temperance Brennan? They brought her in by ambulance about 45 minutes ago! Goddammit, where is my wife? What room is she in? Who's in charge here?" Flashing his badge quickly, Deputy Director Booth angrily pounded on the corner of the information desk with his fist, threatening to pull the emergency room down around the receptionist's ears if his questions weren't answered immediately. After being directed to exam room two, Booth tried to enter the cubicle but was prevented from doing so by the ER physician on call. "I'm Deputy Director Booth with the FBI! I want to see my wife now! Let me through, dammit! Get the fuck outta my way! I need to see my wife!", he roared. Extremely frustrated with receiving so few answers from the desk staff, Booth was determined to push his way into the exam room, but an equally determined Dr. Pettyjohn stood her ground to prevent the unwanted incursion into her territory.

"Sir, I will call security and have you forcibly removed from these premises if you do not calm down immediately." The doctor glanced at Agent Aubrey as he stood behind Booth, silently pleading for his help as she tried to restrain the large, enraged, and thoroughly intimidating man in front of her. "I realize you're quite upset, Director Booth, but there are strict hospital protocols which must be observed in this situation, and we're still conducting our preliminary exam on your wife. Failure to follow those protocols could impede the investigation into her accident. You simply cannot be in this room with her right now...the cubicle is small, and you would be in the way. You must stay in the waiting area. I can assure you that my staff and I will take excellent care of Dr. Brennan, even without your direct supervision." Dr. Pettyjohn stood with her hands on her hips, glaring up at Booth, daring him to trespass into her domain. She held up her phone for him to see and pointed to an area behind them. "I'm not bluffing, sir. I will not hesitate to have you arrested if I need to do so in order to gain your cooperation. Go to the waiting area now. I will inform you about the extent of your wife's injuries as soon as I can, sir." The doctor paused, softening her expression a bit. "I understand that you're worried about your wife, Director Booth. Please...do as I ask so I can return to my patient...please go to the waiting area."

"Booth, come on...just let the doctor do her job, okay? The sooner the doctor checks out Dr. B's injuries, the sooner you can see her…causing a scene in the hallway won't make things happen any quicker, right?" Nodding to the doctor, Aubrey put his hand on Booth's shoulder and gently pulled him away from the exam room doorway and toward a bank of chairs in the waiting area. "Let's go sit over here. The doctor will be out as soon as she can."

"Yeah, okay…I guess you're right." Still shaking violently from the enormous surge of adrenaline he'd been experiencing, Booth sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned back against the chair, trying to fight off the overwhelming wave of nausea he felt so he could reclaim control of his emotions. "It's just...you know...Bones being in danger or hurt…I don't handle that well...not well at all." He was still visibly distraught as he thought about the panic that had overtaken him when he'd gotten that phone call about the incident in the parking garage. Wiping tears from his eyes, Booth exhaled slowly, determined to regain his composure. "How could this happen?" His voice breaking with emotion, Booth went through the incident once again with Aubrey. "The employee garage has controlled access...staff members have to swipe their ID cards to raise the gate so they can enter. No one should've been able to get in with any sort of unauthorized vehicle…and I can't believe it was someone who works there..."

"A witness wrote down the tag number of the SUV." Aubrey pulled out his phone and showed Booth the text message he'd received from the Jeffersonian's head of security. "It was stolen from the parking garage. It wouldn't be hard for someone on foot to slip into the parking garage and pick out a car to steal. People are in and out of the Jeffersonian all day long. I've got agents out looking for that car right now." Aubrey glanced at his friend. "Listen, when I talked to the EMTS that transported Dr. B, they wouldn't tell me much because of HIPPA regs, even when I flashed my badge, but my impression after talking to them is that this could've been a lot worse. Dr. B's gonna be fine, Booth…it's just gonna take some time for her to heal, that's all."

"God...I should've gone home to meet the glass guy instead of sending her. Taking care of the repairs around the house is my job. That goddamn budget meeting came up at the last minute, and then it was just a bunch of stupid shit...okaying overtime pay for the all guys in the different departments who worked on the latest domestic terrorism threat. We could've down that shit via email, you know?" Shaking his head, Booth wiped his eyes with his hands again as he thought of how badly things could've turned out. "What the hell is keeping that doctor?" He turned to look toward the exam room's door, nervously drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. "I don't think I can wait much longer. I gotta see her! I have to see Bones with my own eyes...I gotta make sure she's alright." He jumped up from his chair and began to nervously pace the length of the waiting area.

"I know you feel bad about what happened to Dr. B, but this is not your fault, okay, Booth? It shouldn't be too much longer before you get to talk to the doctor.", Aubrey said hopefully. "I'm gonna go see if I can find a vending machine so I can get a candy bar or some chips. You want something to eat?"

"Nah, I can't eat anything right now. My stomach's all tied up in knots. You go ahead…" Booth saw Aubrey's hesitation and waved for him to leave. "Listen, I'll be fine, okay? I don't need a fucking babysitter, Aubrey. I promise to be a good boy and wait here quietly for the nice doctor, okay? I won't cause a goddamn ruckus, Dad..." Sighing softly, Booth gave Aubrey a sheepish grin. "Hey...thanks for driving me over here...I was in no shape…"

"Yeah...don't mention it. I didn't want you to get another speeding ticket, you know?" Chuckling softly, Aubrey went to find something unhealthy to satisfy his hunger.

The few minutes that passed seemed like endless hours, but finally Dr. Pettyjohn came out to the waiting area to find her patient's husband. "Director Booth? You may come see your wife now…"

Puffing out a sigh of relief, he jumped up from his chair. "Thank God. Is she gonna be alright, Doc? Concussion? Broken bones? Internal injuries?" Booth's questions tumbled frantically on top of each other as he tried to get as much information as possible before he entered the examination room.

"Your wife suffered a grade two acromial separation on the right side, and both bones in her right lower leg are fractured. She may also have a slight concussion. She fell backwards with a lot of force and hit her head and shoulder on the pavement as she tried to roll out of the way to avoid being struck by the vehicle, but her leg was clipped by the vehicle's front bumper as it drove past her. Because of the possible concussion, I'd like her to stay overnight for observation." Dr. Pettyjohn opened the door and allowed Booth to walk into the room ahead of her. "The cuts and bruises are superficial, mostly due to the fall, I think. It doesn't appear that she has any internal injuries…"

Booth's relief was palpable as he finally saw his wife sitting up in her hospital bed. "Oh, Jesus, Bones! How are you feeling? I'm so glad to see you! I was so worried..." He strode over to the bed and kissed her forehead gently as he caressed her cheek. Reaching for her hand, his pent up emotions overflowed as tears when he began to apologize. "God...I'm so sorry! I should've just skipped that goddamn meeting and gone to the house to meet the glass guy. How did this happen? Christ! I tell you what, you wait 'til I find this bastard…hit and run is a felony! I'm gonna make sure he gets the maximum jail time. I can't believe I put you in that situation. I'm so sorry..."

Brennan gave her husband a weak smile as she patted his hand and listened to him rant about her accident. "It's okay, Booth. My injuries aren't life threatening. I'm still a bit dizzy from hitting my head, and my leg and shoulder both ache, but otherwise I'm fine. On the other hand, Booth, you seem to be trembling violently! Are you alright?"

"Well, not really. I got really panicky when the police called me, and I guess…" Booth felt his ears begin to turn red. "I guess I started to hyperventilate, and I got all shaky. It got so bad that Aubrey had to drive me here."

"Hyperventilating is a perfectly normal response to stress. You're feeling weak and shaky due to the rush of adrenaline that occurred when you found out I was injured. You have no reason to be embarrassed, and no reason to feel that this incident was your fault." Brennan grimaced as she lay back against her pillow. "Going home to let the repairman in was not the cause of my injuries, Booth." She paused, waiting until the doctor and medical assistants left the room before gesturing toward the pile of her belongings that were stacked on the chair next to the bed. "For some reason, I was still drowsy when I left the lab this morning, and I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings like I usually do, so the SUV surprised me when it came directly at me. The driver ran over my laptop, crushing it, but my phone, while cracked, managed to survive and is still somewhat functional. Will you hand it to me, please?" She accessed the list of incoming calls and showed it to Booth. "This last call I received...it came from an unknown number. I stopped to answer my phone…"

"And then the bastard tried to run you down? Shit...I can't believe it. This was no accident…" Booth exhaled slowly as he realized how close they had come to a disastrous outcome. "He was trying to kill you, Bones..."

"Yes, I believe your assumption is correct." Brennan answered calmly, watching Booth's expression change from fear to anger as he processed this new information. "Is it possible that this incident is related to the attempted break in at our house earlier this morning?"

"I don't know yet, Bones, but I'm glad we sent our kids out of town with Max."

"Yes, it seems in retrospect that you were not being overprotective after all." She groaned as she shifted her weight, trying to get comfortable in the hospitable bed. "Actually, I've been thinking about something...but it seems so improbable…" She bit her lip, trying to decide if she wanted to share what she considered to be irrational thoughts with Booth.

"Okay, so maybe it seems improbable to you, but tell me anyway. I know you don't like to use your gut, Bones, but I think what really happens is that because you're so smart, your mind can make connections between random things that average people like me miss." Booth laughed as he saw the slight look of annoyance on Brennan's face. "What? Doesn't that sound better than using your gut? So tell me what you've been thinking about…"

She sank back into her hospital bed and exhaled slowly before she began to explain her thoughts, choosing her words with deliberate care. "I've been thinking about whether or not there is some sort of common thread running through the events that have taken place over the last few days, specifically, Hannah's murder, the disappearance of her child, of whom you are the biological father, the break in at our house, and now the apparent attempt on my life. Those things can be linked by one common factor, Booth, which is how badly they impact you personally. The deaths of Mrs. Jordan and Senator Camden are outliers in the scenario, although they could probably be considered collateral damage related to Hannah's death." She saw a glimmer of understanding in Booth's eyes, so she continued. "I'm not convinced that this series of events is completely related to the Russian mafia. I think someone in that organization is playing a part in the scenario, but I think it's more probable that someone from your past is orchestrating these events to avenge some sort of perceived injustice that he feels you have committed towards him."

"Someone from my past who thinks I've committed an injustice towards them? That could be everybody I've ever arrested, Bones!" Clearly frustrated, Booth started to pace the small examination room. "How would I figure out who this bastard is? I can't go back and investigate everyone I've ever put in jail, can I?"

"However, you do think my hypothesis is plausible, correct?" Seeing his confusion, she rephrased her question. "You believe me, right? If you think that my take on the situation is accurate, you can narrow the scope of your investigation significantly. Whoever this person is would have to know about your previous romantic relationship with Hannah, and they would also need to have access to various Russian weapons..."

Booth paced slowly, talking to himself quietly, until finally his gut kicked in. His face was grim as he nodded at Brennan, understanding what she meant. "I got it...It's most likely someone I knew from my time in Afghanistan…. Probably someone from my unit..."

"Yes, I believe so. Russia was in conflict with Afghanistan from 1979 to 1989. No doubt some Russian weapons were captured by members of the Afghan resistance...the mujahideen...and are probably still widely available in Afghanistan. However, the silent pistol that Hodgins believes was the type of gun used to kill Mrs. Jordan wasn't in production until many years later, so whoever is doing this has someone helping them who has more recent ties to Russia."

A quick knock at the door interrupted their conversation. A pair of nurses entered, ready to move Brennan to the new room for her overnight stay, much to her chagrin. "I don't need to stay here overnight, Booth. I'm fine, really…I can sleep better at home."

"I know, but Dr. Pettyjohn thinks it's best to monitor you in case you have a concussion, so that's what we're gonna do, alright? Aubrey's gonna arrange to have some agents posted on the floor so you'll be safe, and I'm gonna stay here tonight..."

Brennan glowered at him as she tried to cross her arms over her chest, hindered by the sling on her arm. "Sleeping in the chair next to my bed will be quite detrimental to the already compromised lumbar region of your back, not to mention that it's totally unnecessary if there will be agents stationed on the floor. You're being far too overprotective again.", she groaned, grimacing as she struggled to get comfortable in her bed.

"Well, with good reason, right? Some bastard tried to run you over! Look, I've gotta go do a little work at the office, but I'll be back later. You just listen to the doctor and rest, okay?" Booth bent down to give her a kiss. "I'll see you soon."

Oooooooooo

Agents Lopez and McAnally followed the receptionist as she entered Pyotr Chernikov's plush penthouse office to announce his visitors. He was working at the computer on his massive, hand carved mahogany desk, which was set against the backdrop of floor to ceiling windows with a view overlooking the city. Plush black velvet sofas sat facing a very large wall mounted flat screen television and a well stocked liquor cabinet stood next to a stainless steel refrigerator on one of the walls opposite of the desk. The sleek decor spoke of an expensive, understated elegance as would befit a very successful young business mogul. Finally the man behind the desk looked away from his computer and rose to acknowledge the agents with a cautious smile and a handshake.

Lopez leaned over to McAnally and whispered softly to her. "Looks like business is good, huh?" McAnally nodded tacitly as she acknowledged Chernikov's outstretched hand with her own firm handshake and smiled sweetly.

"I'm Agent McAnally and this is Agent Lopez, Mr. Chernikov. It's good of you to see us this afternoon, sir, especially on such short notice. I know your time is most valuable, sir, and we don't wish to intrude any more than necessary. However, we would like to inquire again as to your grandfather's health. Has he improved, sir? We certainly hope we can take a positive report back to our supervisor."

Lopez watched his partner in surprise. He'd never seen her act this deferential toward anyone, but he decided to stay quiet and watch the show, supposing she knew what she was doing…

Chernikov shrugged his shoulders in response. "Thank you for asking, but not much has changed for Deda Vladov, Agent McAnally. However, I did take Agent Aubrey's excellent advice. I called my grandfather's parole officer, who now comes to my home to keep the necessary appointments. That way Deda will no longer be in violation of his parole." He gestured for the agents to take a seat on one of the sofas. "May I offer you some refreshments? Something to eat?"

Lopez started to decline, but McAnally interrupted, giving him a look that meant he should follow her lead. "Some tea would be nice, Mr. Chernikov, if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course. I assure you, it's no trouble." Chernikov called his receptionist and asked her to bring them some tea before settling on the sofa across from the agents. "So, Agent McAnally...Agent Lopez...what can I do for you today?"

"We know how horrible the situation is for your family with your child being missing, sir, but Special Agent Aubrey would like to know if there has been any demand for ransom or any request for special favors so that you may obtain the return of your son. He has sent us to see if we can be of any assistance to you in handling that matter."

Chernikov's face registered shock and surprise. "There has been no ransom demand that I am aware of, which is strange, is it not? One moment, please." He pulled out his phone and spoke angrily to someone in Russian. Ending the call, he smiled at the agents benignly. "I've asked my attorney to join us. Perhaps he can clear up this mystery."

There was a sharp rap at the door, and Sergei Tyomkin entered, obviously nervous about the reason he'd been called to Mr. Chernikov's office. "You asked to see me, sir?"

"Sergei Andreyevich...these agents have asked me a very interesting question about my son's disappearance. Has there been a ransom demand made for the return of Vasily? If so, why did you not tell me about it so I could make the necessary financial arrangements?"

"The letter I received from the kidnapper specifically stated not to contact any sort of police. I have already made the arrangements, and the boy should be returned to us soon. I didn't want to bother you and your wife with all of the sordid details, Pyotr, especially considering Irina's delicate state of mind with her child being missing…all we have to do is to be patient and wait..."

"Mr. Chernikov", McAnally began, "That's really not a good idea…"

Tyomkin waved off her objections as he glowered at her. "I know what is best for my client. I think it is time for you and your partner to leave Mr. Chernikov alone and let me handle his business as I see fit. He doesn't need your help, do you, Pyotr?"

Lopez could tell that Chernikov didn't agree, but for some reason the man didn't voice his objections to his lawyer. "Before we leave, Mr. Chernikov", Lopez began, "could you tell us if you are familiar with a man named Mikhail Polzin?"

A few seconds of silence elapsed before Chernikov shook his head, glancing at his very agitated lawyer before answering. "No, I've never heard of the man. Why?"

McAnally smiled disarmingly and shrugged. "His name has come up in our investigation, and we were just checking to see if there was a connection between him and your present situation, Mr. Chernikov. Part of our job, you know? Thank you for your time, gentlemen, and for the excellent tea. We'll see ourselves out. Good-bye."

Lopez and McAnally walked down the hall to the elevator in silence. As they entered the elevator car, Lopez turned to his partner and laughed out loud. "So what gives with all the nicey-nicey shit in there? You're never that polite to anyone, Cindy...not even Father Everett…"

Chuckling, McAnally rolled her eyes at her partner. "You really should read the interview notes that you and Aubrey put together, Mateo. Aubrey commented in his notes that Mrs. Chernikov was very deferential to her husband...almost subservient. I just figured we'd get more information if I acted the same way toward him. So what do you think? Did it work?"

"Maybe." Lopez thought about their visit for a few minutes. "Based on his body language, I think Tyomkin knows Polzin...and I also think he knows where Vasily is, too, but for some reason he hasn't told Chernikov. He's either in on it, or he's trying to protect the guy who has the kid."

"I agree...and when we find one of the people in question, we'll probably find the other." They rode to the ground floor in silence and exited the building, stepping into the bright sunshine. Agent McAnally pulled out her phone and hit speed dial. Glancing at her partner, she explained. "I'm gonna let Aubrey know what we found out, and ask him to run a background check on Tyomkin. I'm not sure he's who he claims to be…something strikes me as odd about that guy..."

Lopez glanced at his partner as they got into their SUV. "Hey, maybe you should try being nicey-nicey to me from time to time…it might be good to change things up every once in a while, you know?"

McAnally shook her head as she laughed at her partner. "In your dreams, hombre...in your dreams."

Oooooooooo

It had been a very long day, and Booth was exhausted to the point of almost being incoherent. After finishing his work at the office, he'd gone to stay several hours at the hospital with Bones, still not completely convinced that her injuries weren't life threatening. Eventually her pain medications and a lack of rest from the night before could no longer be overcome, and she was sleeping soundly in her hospital bed. Booth would've stayed all night, just watching her sleep, but Aubrey had strongly suggested that the Deputy Director would sleep better and with less back pain in his own bed instead of a small side chair next to his wife's hospital bed, allowing him to be refreshed enough the next day to hunt down the bastard that had tried to kill his wife. Booth didn't really agree, but Aubrey stood firm, citing a phone call he'd received from Director Stark. After inquiring about Dr. Brennan's injuries, Stark had made things abundantly clear...he wanted Booth to go home to sleep in his own bed instead of staying the night at the hospital. The Bureau needed Booth in top form for the difficult job ahead of him. The six agents posted on the hospital wing made Booth feel only slightly more secure. Against Booth's better judgment, he'd let Aubrey drive him home so he could have a bite to eat and get some rest, but not before leaving strict orders with the medical staff that he should be informed immediately if there was even the slightest change in his wife's condition.

Now Booth lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling as he tried to relax enough to sleep. He glanced over at the empty side of the bed. He missed having his wife next to him, and he wondered if he'd be able to relax at all, knowing she was in that hospital room without him there to watch over her. Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, he closed his eyes once again, willing himself to be calm. Bones would recover from her injuries this time, but what about next time? His eyes popped open again as he thought about his position with the FBI. The whole reason to take the position of Deputy Director was to reduce the amount of danger his family was placed in, and yet, danger seemed to follow him no matter where he was or what he was doing. Maybe it was time to quit altogether...to go into private security or safety management. He'd discuss it with Bones after this case was over...yeah, that's what he'd do. After tossing and turning for several minutes, exhaustion finally caught up with Booth, and he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A figure stepped out of the shadows onto the sidewalk in front of the house, scowling as he cursed the failure of his cohort. _The woman is still alive, but injured...not as I planned, but I can adapt. At least she'll be easier to take now...and I can wait...I have a few more days before I need to act.._ Shrinking back into the darkness, the figure returned to his car. He'd follow the man tomorrow and find out where the woman was... _and then I'll take her from him, like he stole mine from me….._

 _oooooooooo_

 _A/N: The Russian word Deda is equivalent to the English word Grandpa. I hope you'll forgive the bit of artistic license I used here. I know it's somewhat out of character for Booth not to stay all night at the hospital with Brennan, but he's too exhausted to argue about it right now. Thanks for reading. If you have time to leave a review that would be great._


	11. Chapter 11 A Jolt of Electricity

_A/N: just a reminder that I don't own the Bones characters, and any resemblance between my invented characters and real people is an amazing coincidence. Thanks for reading. If you have time to leave a review, I'd appreciate it._

It was early the next morning when Special Agent in Charge James Aubrey sat at the head of the table in the main conference room, listening as the agents under his supervision delivered their reports on the information that had been gathered about their ongoing cases over the past few days. Reaching into the nearby box of doughnuts and pulling out a raised, glazed beauty, he took a bite of the sweet treat and focused his attention on Agent Duval's report.

"The field office in New York City finally found Ms. Burley's apartment, sir. Turns out it's basically a _pied a terre..._ you know, a studio apartment that has a Murphy bed, a tiny bathroom, and a tiny kitchen with a dorm fridge and a microwave. It's like a hotel room, really...designed more for occasional use instead of being an actual living space." Duval cleared his throat as he looked up at Aubrey and shrugged. "Probably not really enough room for her and a child, too...the place is tiny, like less than 500 square feet. It's more like a big walk in closet, I guess. There was a small sofa, a dresser, a desk with a chair, and not much else. Her name is the only one on the lease. Anyway, here's the thing...when the agents got there, they found out that the place had been tossed. The cabinet doors were torn off their hinges, holes were punched in the walls, the Murphy bed and the sofa were torn up...the works. Somebody was apparently looking for something important. Agents found none of the victim's personal belongings in the apartment. They speculate she hadn't been there for quite some time, even though the rent was paid in full for a year and the utilities were still turned on."

Aubrey nodded as he sipped his coffee. "That fits with what we know about the victim. She evidently spent quite a bit of time in the recent months here in DC with the child." Aubrey looked at the young agent sitting next to Duval. "What have you got for me, Granger?"

"We finally found a birth certificate for the child...actually, there were two birth certificates filed in the state of New York. The original birth certificate lists the child's name as Vasily Iosef Petrovich Biryukov. His mother is listed as Irina Andreynovna Chernikova and the father is listed as Pyotr Vladimirovich Chernikov. Date of birth: 11:36 pm, March 30, 2011 at St. John's Episcopal Hospital, Far Rockaway, New York. The attending physician is listed as Dr. Philip Henson. A year later an amended birth certificate was filed. All of the details, including the mother's name were the same, but the father's name was changed…" Granger began to blush as she stammered over her report, somewhat embarrassed by the information she was about to share.

"Go on. What was the name changed to?" Aubrey glared at the young agent impatiently. "Granger?"

Fidgeting with a paperclip, Granger continued. "Um...okay...the father's name was changed to Seeley Joseph Booth, sir, as in the Deputy Director of the Major Crimes division here in the DC office. Both documents were signed by the woman who actually gave birth to the child: Snezhana Ivanovna Biryukova, also known as Hannah Burley, instead of the biological mother."

"That's interesting.", Aubrey commented blandly, sipping his coffee again. As he reached for another doughnut, he nodded at the next two agents at the table. "McAnally and Lopez...anything new about the boy's kidnapping?"

Lopez hesitated slightly as he looked at his partner McAnally, who smiled and gave him a quick nod of approval. When they began working together a year ago, they'd spent some time learning how to take turns when it came to presenting evidence and reports. McAnally, being the only girl and the youngest child in a family of seven brothers, had learned early in life to be vocal and assertive so she couldn't be ignored, but after a few weeks of working with Lopez, she'd discovered that she'd been overshadowing her soft spoken partner, a man of few words who often had very insightful things to say about their cases if someone actually bothered to listen to him. Her smile encouraged him to plunge ahead with the report.

"McAnally and I went to see Mr. Chernikov at his office yesterday, Boss. He seemed really surprised when we asked him about a ransom demand for the return of his child. It was like it dawned on him that there should've been a request for ransom all along, but he obviously hadn't heard about one. He called his lawyer…" Lopez looked at his notes…"a Mr. Tyomkin, into his office. Mr. Tyomkin said that he had received the ransom demand, although he didn't say from who, and he had 'taken care of it' so that Mr. Chernikov and his wife wouldn't have to be bothered with it. It was Mr. Tyomkin's contention that the boy should be back home soon."

McAnally spoke up. "Both Mateo and I think that Tyomkin either took the boy himself, or knows who has him, based on his reaction to the questions we asked, and that the whole ransom deal he was talking about is a lie. Unfortunately, there's no way for us to prove any of that right now. I think Chernikov felt that way as well, even though he acted like he was cool with what the lawyer said. When we asked about Polzin, it appeared that Chernikov really didn't know who he was, but I'd bet my last dollar that Tyomkin knows him. If Polzin is still alive, he probably has the boy. The problem is finding them. We really don't have a good place to start looking for either one right now."

"The background check I ran on Tyomkin didn't show anything out of the ordinary. He seems to be respectable enough." Aubrey looked at the members of his team as he contemplated their next move. "Do we have enough probable cause to bring Tyomkin in for questioning? Maybe we could put the squeeze on him somehow and get the truth. What do you think, Granger?"

"Maybe the guys in cyber intelligence can use The Patriot Act to see what he's doing on the internet.", Granger said quietly, still fidgeting with her paperclip, hoping her idea didn't sound really stupid.

Nodding slightly at the agent's suggestion, Aubrey considered it for a minute before he continued. "I don't know if it's the Patriot Act we want to invoke. I think maybe we can get some agents from the Crimes Against Children Unit to talk to Tyomkin. They can ask him some more questions about Polzin...maybe see what he knows about Polzin's involvement with selling underage girls and what he knows about the prostitution setup. The video of the senator with the underaged girls was posted online, so maybe the guys in the Cybercrimes unit can check to see if Polzin is selling other sorts of kiddie porn over the internet, and that may bring us back to Chernikov and Tyomkin. Good idea, Granger. Okay, good work everyone. Keep looking for more facts to back up what we already know. Don't ignore any detail, no matter how tiny it seems. Remember, we still have a little boy unaccounted for. I'll get this information to Director Booth."

Oooooooooo

Early morning at the Jeffersonian saw the team preparing to conduct Senator Camden's autopsy, which had been delayed by Brennan's accident the previous day. Dr. Saroyan offered a relieved smile to the intern who joined them on the lab platform. "Thank you for coming into the lab on such short notice, Ms. Warren. I know you're busy working on your dissertation, but with Dr. Brennan being injured we're going to be short handed until she has a chance to heal. Her doctor wants her to rest a few days because of her concussion." Cam bustled around the lab platform as they prepared for the initial inspection of Senator Camden's body. "Of course, as you can imagine, Dr. Brennan had planned on coming to lab this morning, even with a concussion, her ankle in a boot and her arm in a sling, but Director Booth vetoed that decision right away. Dr. Brennan wasn't happy with that, but, at least for the next few days, she's decided to defer to his opinion. She'll probably want to skype with us later today to make sure she's kept up to date on pertinent details as a way of compromising with Booth."

Jessica smiled to herself as she imagined how animated the "I'm going back to work" discussion had been between those two stubborn people. "It's no problem, Dr. Saroyan. I'm just glad Dr. Brennan wasn't injured more severely in the incident. Besides, the majority of my dissertation is complete. Dr. Brennan said she would proof it for me shortly...if she's not still laid up, that is."

"That's good news. Have you decided where you'd like to work when you've obtained your doctorate, Jessica?" Hodgins steadied himself on his crutches as he prepared to take particulate samples from the skin on the senator's neck. "I would imagine there are a lot of possibilities available to you since you've worked here at the Jeffersonian as an intern. That always looks good on a resume...hey, I'll write a letter of reference if you want..."

"Thanks, Curly." Jessica grinned at Hodgins as she pulled on her gloves and lab apron. "I'd like to teach at a major university eventually, but I'll need some practical experience first. I'm considering applying with the CIA." Jessica began taking photographs of the body as she chattered happily. "I think that would be really exciting...CIA forensics would be kind of like being a spy, without so much of the 'people trying to kill you' part."

Cam and Hodgins smirked across the table at each other as they imagined their chatty intern trying to keep a secret. "That does sound interesting." Hodgins scraped under the decedent's fingernails as he spoke. "There are lots of conspiracy theories in the world to prove or disprove…"

"Why not the FBI?", Cam asked innocently, even though she was fairly sure she already knew the answer. "It seems like they always need competent techs and team leaders, and you've had a lot of practical experience in forensics…"

"I've suggested that several times to James, but he says he doesn't think we should both work for the Bureau, and since he just got a big promotion, I guess his career should take priority right now." Jessica grimaced slightly as she moved around the exam table. "I don't see what the problem is with me working there, though, since Dr. Brennan and Director Booth manage to make things work between them well enough to satisfy the FBI. I think James and I could work well together, just like they do. They seem get along so well at work. They always seem so professional." She rolled her eyes, slightly frustrated at her boyfriend's reticence. "I think they're such a good model of how partners should work together."

Cam snickered and rolled her eyes at a grinning Hodgins as she thought about all of the arguments at work that had occurred between Booth and Brennan over the years. "Sounds like you've still got a few details to work out then. I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out after you get your degree, even if the FBI doesn't work out for you..."

Hodgins scoffed at Cam's lack of enthusiasm. "Right now, it shouldn't be a problem if you and Aubrey both work for the Bureau. It's not like you're married to each other." Looking up, he caught the rather pointed glare Cam directed at him. "Of course, it doesn't hurt to think about every contingency, I suppose."

Jessica shrugged as she thought about what Hodgins said. "Well, we'll see. I think I'm still leaning toward the CIA…"

Cam continued her examination, closely examining the victim's upper body. "Uh oh…" Cam motioned to Hodgins. "Bring me that multi-band forensic lamp, please, Dr. Hodgins." She focused the light on Senator Camden's neck and chest. "Look at this bruising pattern on his throat. Four fingers on each side,wrapping around his neck, and two thumbs here, over the larynx. These bruises were made by someone with very large hands. It looks like his larynx was crushed. He was probably strangled before he was strung up in that tree."

Hodgins nodded as he peered over Cam's shoulder. Pulling up a photograph on the lab station's computer, he pointed to the area on the ground under the tree where the Senator had been found. "I was looking at this picture of the crime scene that the FBI sent over. That's a four foot step ladder...our victim appears to be about 5'8"...and that branch is a little over ten feet off the ground. There's no way he could've tied the rope to that tree branch the way it's shown in the picture using that ladder. He's just too short. I think our crime scene was staged to look like a suicide. We need to get the FBI techs back out there to check the scene again…" Hodgins grinned at Ms. Warren. "Maybe you should ask to go with them to see if you'd like to work for the FBI. I bet Special Agent in Charge Aubrey wouldn't mind a little extra help at the house."

"Except that we need her here at the lab!" Cam directed another stern glare at Hodgins. Turning back to the body, she pointed to the neck again. "Make sure you check his neck for rope fibers…"

"Yeah, got it." Hodgins glanced up at Jessica again. "You know, it's kind of fun being a couple and working together for the same organization...I'm really glad Angie and I work together. We've gotten to spend a lot of quality time together over the years. We ride to work together, and we eat lunch together most days." Hodgins grinned to himself as he thought of other ways he and his wife had spent some quality time together in the various storerooms around the Jeffersonian, but decided against sharing that information with Ms. Warren. "You need to get Aubrey to agree to let you work for the FBI, and then you could come visit us from time to time…" He saw Cam glare at him again. "Not that I'd meddle in your private business or your personal relationships or anything like that…"

"Of course not, Curly." Jessica grinned back at Hodgins. "I still have some time to figure things out, and we have work to do now, right?" She pointed to the decedent on the lab table.

"That's correct, Ms. Warren. Please help Dr. Hodgins take some samples from the victim's clothing. I'm going to run a tox screen. It's possible that our victim was drugged…." Cam paused as she bent down and removed a small group of hairs from the victim's shirt. "Black hairs...this victim's hair is gray, and Hannah was a blonde. It looks like the Senator may've had a visitor we don't know about." She bagged the sample and turned to Hodgins. "Check the hair to make sure it's human...I don't want to send the techs on a wild goose chase over some dog hair." She picked up the pans that contained the victim's organs and briskly walked back to the autopsy room.

Jessica giggled softly as she reached over to take the scissors from the tool cart next to the exam table. Being an intelligent young woman, she had realized that there would be several perks to working at the same place as her boyfriend, and those perks weren't limited to carpooling and pleasant company for lunch. She knew that even though the Hoover didn't have as many varied and interesting places as the Jeffersonian for a couple in love to indulge in some lunchtime passion, there were some out of the way storage closets that could serve the same purpose more than adequately. She smiled to herself, licking her lips in anticipation of her evening plans with Superman, even if he did have to work late at the Hoover tonight. Director Booth had been thoughtful enough to request that blinds be installed on the wall of windows overlooking the bullpen when he used that office, and she was looking forward to taking advantage of the little bit of privacy those blinds might offer the Special Agent in Charge and his favorite squinty girl.

Oooooooooo

The morning sun was just barely peeking over the horizon as Booth sat on the beat up old sofa in his man cave, looking through the pages of an album filled with pictures from his most recent deployment in Afghanistan. It was surreal to see himself in those photos, standing there in his government issue body armor and helmet, laughing and seeming to be happy, when most of the time that was exactly opposite of what he felt, and it wasn't just because he had missed Bones terribly while he'd been separated from her. He remembered the day he'd had a picture taken with some of the Afghan soldiers he'd been training, only to have four of them lost the next day when their transport truck hit an IED. _You just never know when your time comes._ There were a couple of pictures with some American soldiers, too...guys who were there to lead units or to help train other soldiers, and some of them were never coming home again, like Roger Tracy, or Jimmy Kaplan. He sighed as he shook his head, trying to force himself to concentrate on the purpose of this photographic journey back in time instead of getting bogged down by sadness and regret. He turned the page and found one of the pictures he'd been looking for. There he was with Hannah and the group of guys who'd been with him when he'd arrested her for her incursion into no man's land. What a day that had been...pulling a beautiful blonde woman out of the line of fire in a dusty village square was the last thing he'd expected to do on that tour of duty. He'd been so angry at her for putting his unit in danger, especially when she seemed so clueless about what she'd done wrong...and then she turned his life upside down when she 'thanked' him over and over again underneath that damned fig tree. _It seemed like a good idea at the time, didn't it, Booth?_ Shaking his head ruefully, he still felt slightly disgusted with himself over that turn of events. Now, looking back on that period of time, he realized just how foolish he'd been to think he loved Hannah enough marry her. _I really should've known better...it's always been Bones for me...I can't imagine things any other way…Thank you, God, for letting things work out the way they did..._

Sighing as he turned back to the album, he thought about the men in the photograph. _Let's see...that's me and Jerry right there...Mohammed, and Ibrahim...Ibrahim's dead...he was killed by a suicide bomber. What about Mohammed? Nah...he just wanted to get back home to his wife and kids. No way he's here in the States. He was a good guy….so was Jerry...last I heard Jerry was doing security work in California..._ Booth was trying to jump start his memory. He so was close...he could feel it, but what was he missing?

He turned to the next page, and it was like a jolt of electricity passed through him. Their Afghan interpreter, a man in his early thirties at the time...there he was in a picture, standing on one side of Hannah with Booth standing on her other side. The look on the man's face was strange as he stood looking at Hannah. What was the guy feeling? Love, jealousy, rage? He'd followed Hannah around like a puppy while he was with their unit...like a lovesick teenager, actually, but Hannah and Booth were a couple by then, and she'd let the guy down none too easily, if Booth remembered correctly. Did she laugh at the guy? Insult his masculinity? Surely not...was she really that cold? _Yeah_...Booth grimaced as he remembered his former girlfriend. _She really could be cold hearted to get what she wanted._ Hannah had been a strong, assertive woman, used to being on her own and doing exactly what she pleased whenever she pleased. If she was with a man, it was because she chose to be, and she certainly didn't need anybody to take care of her. _She sure as hell wasn't going to be able to handle the traditional Afghan style of courtship._

Looking over another picture of the three of them, it struck Booth for the first time how angry the man looked. _How could it be him that's causing all of this trouble for me? I always thought we were friends. I looked out for the guy! I taught him to shoot and some special ops stuff to protect himself, like how to take a guy down...how paralyze a guy with gunshot...how to aim for the heart. I was trying to do the right thing! Did he really hate me that much because he thought I'd stolen girl his girl from him? Except she was never his girl, was she? You can't steal something from someone if it never belonged to them to begin with. Anyway, I didn't make a play for Hannah...she made the first move on me...but I didn't say no, did I? What would I have done if I'd realized how that guy felt about Hannah? He was my friend..._

There was another picture of the man standing next to Booth. The interpreter was a handsome man with dark hair and big brown eyes, slight of build and stature. He'd suffered some sort of traumatic injury as a child which had never completely healed, and he had a pronounced limp on the left side. He couldn't qualify to be a soldier in the Afghan army, no matter how desperate they were, because of his injury, even though he was an excellent shot. Booth had taken pity on the guy and had tried to befriend him so the other guys in the unit wouldn't tease the guy so much. _He wanted to serve his country so badly. He was so good with a gun, and they really needed him, but he couldn't handle the physical aspects of basic training._ The man seemed to have been fairly well educated at a good private school, and in fact, he spoke excellent English, but his sheltered upbringing had made him quite naive...the guy truly thought Hannah was head over heels in love with him, and that she wanted to marry him.

Booth turned to the next page of the album, and as he looked through the pictures, he began to realize what had happened. Hannah was a natural flirt, and she didn't always know when to quit. She had probably led the guy on...maybe even slept with him a couple of times...and then threw him aside for the American sergeant major who'd rescued her from a dangerous situation, and that sergeant major just happened to be one Seeley J. Booth. It would've been hard for the other man to face...he might've already caught some grief from his own community for helping the Americans, but then to lose your American girlfriend to an American soldier would definitely be considered disgraceful. The guy acted like it didn't bother him...but looking back at that picture, who knew what he really felt? _He looks really angry...if looks could kill….he has to be the guy behind all this shit...but how? That's just crazy...if he is alive, he's probably not even in the States. Last I heard he was in Kabul..._

Even though it was still early morning, Booth pulled out his phone and called one of his contacts at Homeland Security. _Better safe than sorry, I guess._ "Hey, Johnny! Yeah, it's Booth. Sorry to call you so early, but I was wondering if you could see if you can get some information on a guy for me. This is gonna sound batshit crazy, but hear me out, okay? This guy I'm looking for is an Afghan national, probably between the ages of 35 and 45. He was one of the interpreters for my unit when I was deployed over there, and I was wondering if he's made it here to the States yet. He would've gotten into the country on a Special Immigrants Visa because of his work as an interpreter with the Army. Yeah...I don't think he's a terrorist, really, but he's no angel, either. It's possible he may be involved with the Russian Mafia here in DC. Yeah, I know...not good, right? Can you maybe check on his visa status and whereabouts for me? I want to know if he's in the DC area, okay? The guy's name is Ahmed Zubair Durani. Call me when you find out anything, okay? The sooner, the better. Thanks."

Still unable to shake the feeling that something was dreadfully wrong, Booth called his friend Danny at the CIA and asked for any information they had on Durani. "Yeah...see if the US offered him safe passage and asylum on a Special Immigrant Visa here in the States since he was an interpreter for our unit. I need to find out if he's in the States on a visa, and if so, how long he's been here and if he's in the DC area...yeah, call and let me know, okay? As soon as possible, you know? Thanks, man. What? Yeah...you're right. Now we're even."

Booth hung up the phone and stared out the window that overlooked his pleasant backyard. Now that he had a name to go on, he knew he wouldn't be able to rest easy until he knew more about where this guy was, and if this was really the bastard causing all of this pain and suffering. The sooner he knew the whereabouts of Ahmed Zubair Durani, the better he'd feel.

He glanced at the clock on his desk. It was still early...6 am...but he knew his Bones would be chomping at the bit to get out of the hospital as soon as possible, so he got dressed and ready to go to work, planning to pick her up from the hospital on the way to the Hoover. He was still angry that Stark had demanded that he go home the night before, having insisted that it would look bad if the Deputy Director didn't trust his own agents well enough to let them guard his wife in a hospital. _What looks bad is that Stark doesn't listen to the people who work for him._ Booth regretted that his exhaustion had led to his caving in to the Director's demands to leave his wife to sleep alone at the hospital, even though it seemed that no harm had come from it. _When this is all over, me and Stark are gonna have a little heart to heart talk. Maybe he's my boss, but that son of a bitch doesn't get to run my personal life._

Booth rushed through his breakfast and gathered his belongings quickly, picking up his wife's tablet on his way out the door. He gave a cursory glance down the street before pulling the SUV out of the driveway. _A produce delivery van at this hour?_ He glanced at the clock on his dashboard. _6:45 am? Hmm. Maybe Mrs. Leonard is having another party._ He put the SUV in gear and drove away from his house, focused on picking up his wife and on how he could convince her that she didn't need to go to work for the next few days. _Maybe she could hang out at Angela's house instead..use her tablet and work from there...she can skype..._

If he hadn't been so preoccupied with that problem, he would've seen the delivery van pull into the street to follow him...


	12. Chapter 12 War Crimes

_A/N: this is a work of fiction. None of the events written about in this story actually occurred to my knowledge. I've done research, trying to make the story accurate, but there may be some mistakes in the history. Please remember: this story is AU._

Mid-morning sunlight filtered through the dirty window facing an alley. A man stared out the window as he shook his head in disgust. "You had one job to do. I asked you to do one small task, to take care of one small detail, and you failed miserably because you're so stupid. How hard is it to hit someone with a large car? You're a failure, Mikhail, and I don't have time for failures! I need to stay on the timetable that I've laid out in order implement my plan correctly!" The angry man paced back and forth across the tiny storeroom behind a restaurant kitchen, yelling loudly at his cohort, confident that the noise usually produced by the breakfast rush would provide a cover for the business at hand. It was time to eliminate the failures...

"My mission wasn't a failure. Dr. Brennan is off the case because she's injured. My informant says she has a broken leg and a concussion. I'm sure her husband won't let her go to work for several days. I accomplished what you wanted me to accomplish, right? She can't interfere with your plan against her husband anymore, and when she goes back to work, I can try again." Mikhail Polzin ran his hands through his thick black hair and started to squirm in his chair, nervously twitching under the intense glare of the man standing over him. "Besides, this way you can torture her, right? I thought that was part of your plan…to make them both suffer, and, anyway, torturing her might be fun. If you hurt her, you hurt him, right? Nothing has been lost..."

"There isn't time for that kind of fun, you sick bastard. I wanted her dead, not merely injured. If she had died, her husband would want to die a thousand times over...sentimental fool that he is, his life revolves completely around her. The whole point of the entire operation...for everything that's happened so far...is to make him pay for ruining my life. I want him to suffer as much as I have suffered...more than I have suffered. He must never be happy again. I want him to experience pain like mine before I kill him..."

"I have the boy secured for you...you can use him for bait to pull the man in. He knows the child is his...if you threaten the child you can bring the man into your trap with very little trouble…" Polzin's voice became louder and more strident as he tried to explain things. "I can help you with that...just give me another chance. I can help set the trap, I've got talents, you know? I run an extensive organization. I shot that video of the senator you sent to the television stations, so you know I can make a video the boy and send it to the FBI. I've got connections in high places. I can get you in to see Chernikov…tell him about his son...who the father really is."

The other man stopped pacing and shook his head as he smirked at Polzin. "I don't need your help, Mikhail. I was doing well even without your 'assistance'. I don't need a pathetic excuse of a man like you to do things for me. As I said, Mikhail...I hate failures. They waste my time, and I have no time to waste. I can use the boy however I want. I can get in touch with Chernikov or Booth whenever I want. I can call the shots however I want." A pistol glinted in the pale light of the room. "And I take the shots whenever I need to…"

Panic stricken, Polzin began to plead with his captor. "But, I can help! Really...you need me! I can talk to people! Please! Let me try..."

Two silent gunshots ended the argument...and they ended the life of Mikhail Polzin.

Oooooooooo

Later that morning, Booth was going through the information that Homeland Security and the CIA had sent him via email. No one seemed to have any idea where Ahmed Durani was at the moment, and it was making Booth extremely nervous. He was getting ready to call Danny Beck again to ask for more information on Durani when Aubrey knocked on the doorjamb of his office. "Hey, Booth...Sergei Tyomkin's here at the Hoover. I'd like you to be in the room with us when we interview him."

"Alright." Booth nodded, grabbing his jacket and phone as he stood to leave. "How'd you get him to come in? Did you have enough probable cause to arrest him?"

"Nope, but we didn't need it. The special agent in charge of the Crimes Against Children Unit called Tyomkin to discuss Chernikov's alleged involvement with child pornography. Tyomkin was desperate to keep his client's name clean in order to protect the import business, so he volunteered to come see us to explain everything."

"Nice work." Booth smiled faintly as they waited for the elevator. "Think we can pin anything on either one of them?"

"I don't know...we'll probably need a confession to link Tyomkin to anything, but, if nothing else, we can sure as hell make him sweat. If we push him hard enough, he might just be willing to give up Chernikov…" Aubrey glanced at Booth as they watched the numbers go by over the elevator doors, noticing how tired the Director seemed to be. "How's Dr. B? Is she feeling better?"

"She's feeling a lot better…I checked her out of the hospital this morning as early as I could, before she drove the medical staff crazy." Booth puffed out an exasperated sigh. "In fact, she wanted me to drop her off at the lab, despite my feelings about the whole damn thing. I finally convinced her that she needed to rest for a day or two so she wouldn't make a mistake that might damage the case. Of course, she had to point out that she doesn't make mistakes, but, you know, with her having a concussion, I decided we couldn't take any chances." He shrugged as they left the elevator. "She's staying at Angela's house this morning. I just didn't feel good about her staying at our house by herself with everything that's happened, but I didn't want her to go to work. I took her tablet to her so she can work from Angela's. It was the best compromise I could get her to agree to…"

"My guys found the SUV that ran her down abandoned in a parking lot not far from the museum. They're still trying to figure out how the guy stole the car. There weren't any prints anywhere on or in the car...the guy came prepared, knowing he'd need to steal a vehicle…" Aubrey grimaced as he heard Booth curse under his breath... _God, it must be rough, knowing someone's trying to kill your wife…_ "We'll figure it out, Booth. We'll see what Tyomkin can tell us…"

They met Special Agents Bill Weis and Rachel Silas outside the conference room where Sergei Tyomkin sat nervously fidgeting with the bottle of water that sat in front of him. Booth spoke quietly to the group before they entered the conference room. "What've we got, Silas?"

Agent Silas referred to her file. "We'd gotten a tip from Metro late yesterday afternoon. Someone in the neighborhood had called them, concerned about a lot of unusual activity going on lately at a house over on Cleveland Street. There seemed to be lots of underage kids coming and going, but no sign of parents or any other adults being at the house." She handed Booth a photograph of a small brick building. "The house belongs to Pyotr Chernikov and was being leased to Mikhail Polzin, probably with Tyomkin handling the transaction. My agents raided the house this morning and found about fifteen underaged kids living in the two bedroom house with no adult supervision." Agent Silas grimaced with disgust as she showed Booth more pictures from the file. "The place is a pigsty, and there wasn't any food in the house. Three of the girls living there were seen in that video of Senator Camden engaging in the sex acts with minors. We don't have any idea where the fourth girl from that video is, but she wasn't at the house."

"Maybe we can get Chernikov and Polzin on child endangerment", Weis mused. "It's gonna take some time, because most of the kids don't speak English. After the court appointed child advocates and interpreters finish interviewing the kids, we might be able to add prostitution and human trafficking, but we'd really like to get that bastard Tyomkin to tell us how Chernikov is involved…"

"If he actually is involved…I'm not sure Chernikov is actually your guy, Weis." Booth watched Tyomkin peel away the bottle's label for a few seconds. "It's hard to imagine why the guy in there is acting that nervous when all he's supposed to be doing is protecting his client's reputation. That guy's got something to hide…" Turning to Aubrey, Booth motioned toward the conference room and grinned slightly. "Does the lawyer have a lawyer? He may need one by the time we get through with him. Okay, who's gonna take lead on this one?"

The three agents looked at each other in surprise, assuming that Director Booth would choose. Finally, Agent Weis slowly raised his hand. "I guess I'll start...Tyomkin knows me…"

"Okay...let's do this…" Booth and the three agents entered the conference room to begin their interrogation.

Sergei Tyomkin gasped in shock as three FBI agents and a Deputy Director entered the conference room and sat down across from him. "What have I done to deserve such treatment from the FBI? I've only come to answer questions pertaining to my client's lack of involvement with some awful man who purveys child pornography. Of course, Mr. Chernikov has no knowledge of this horrible situation. His business is completely legal and he is an honest man. He cares deeply for his wife and child…"

"Speaking of the child, Mr. Tyomkin…", Aubrey began, as he looked through a stack of papers…"tell us about the ransom demand that you've supposedly taken care of for your client. My agents say that you were certain that the child would be returned soon. Has that happened yet?"

Tyomkin inhaled sharply. "What I meant was...I believe there was a misunderstanding…", he stammered. "What I meant was…I was making arrangements in case I heard something..."

He was interrupted by a sudden knock at the door, and Lopez entered the room. "Agent Aubrey, I need a word, please...it's urgent…" Aubrey gave Tyomkin an impatient glare as he rose and left the room behind Lopez.

Weis took up the questioning after Aubrey left. "There's a house over on Cleveland Street that was raided this morning, Mr. Tyomkin. Agent Silas says it's owned by your client, Pyotr Chernikov, and was rented to man named Mikhail Polzin. We know Polzin is a pimp for underage girls, and that he probably trafficks underage kids from Russia and the neighboring countries…" Tyomkin began to protest vehemently as Aubrey reentered the room.

"I know nothing about that sort of criminal activity. I simply looked over the lease agreement to make sure my client's interests were protected…I don't know how the house is used..." Tyomkin was beginning to perspire profusely as Aubrey reentered the conference room.

"Well, it seems that we won't have to worry about Mikhail Polzin running a prostitution ring anymore. His body was found in an alley behind a Russian restaurant…" Aubrey glanced at the card Lopez had given him. "...a place called the Red Square Bar and Grill. He'd been shot twice...at least one shot through the heart…"

"Oh my God…" Tyomkin blessed himself in the Orthodox manner. "Who's left? I should've known he couldn't be trusted. I should've killed him long ago. It was him...Durani…it was Durani who killed Mikhail…"

"Durani? As in Ahmed Zubair Durani?" Booth sat stunned as he realized who Tyomkin was talking about. "You mean he's actually here in DC? Jesus Christ!" Exhaling slowly, Director Booth drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair as he stared at the man sitting across the table from him. "I think it's time for the whole story, Mr. Tyomkin…from the beginning..."

Tyomkin took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "It's a long and complicated tale. It's like the spokes of a spider's web, all leading to the spider in the center...and in this case, yes, that deadly spider is Ahmed Zubair Durani. Are you recording this? Because there are too many details to commit to memory…" He took a sip from his water bottle and sighed deeply.

"Yes...we'll get it all down." Booth glanced at the other agents as they nodded. "We can also provide you with protection from Durani if you need it…"

"Not for me...I deserve no assistance, but for Pyotr and Irina...they will need protection, and they will need help to get their child back…"

"Alright...we'll help them...and we'll provide protection for you as well. We may need you to testify against him…" Booth leaned back in his chair. "Whenever you're ready…"

Taking a deep breath, Tyomkin began to tell his story. "It begins in the winter of 1985. The Soviet Union was fighting a war in Afghanistan against insurgents who were trying to overthrow the Soviet backed Afghan government. Things were going very badly for our side. There were four of us posted together...myself, Ivan Biryukov, Vladimir Chernikov, and Alexei Polzin. We were all part of the same squad."

"Wait...that name...Biryukov...I recognize that name…" Aubrey looked back through his files.

"Yes. Ivan Biryukov was the father, in name at least, of the woman you knew as Hannah Burley. I assume you know that Vladimir and Alexei were the fathers of Pyotr Chernikov and Mikhail Polzin…"

Booth nodded. "I see. Go on…"

Tyomkin shivered as he recalled that night so many years ago. "We were on patrol in a small Afghan village one winter's evening. It was very cold, even with all of our layers of winter clothing. We Russians know how to deal with cold, you know?" Tyomkin managed a weak smile at his little joke. "It began to snow furiously, and since there were almost no lights in the village, we could no longer see where we were going. We were desperate to get out of the weather, so finally we tried to seek shelter in a house that belonged to an Afghan family. We offered them money to take us in for the night, but Afghan custom dictates that they offer hospitality to strangers..."

"And their family name was Durani?", Booth asked. "As in Mohammed Aziz Durani?"

"Yes." Tyomkin's face registered surprise at Booth's knowledge. "We stayed with the family for two days as the blizzard passed. The family fed us and took care of us as best they could. Compared to most people in the village, the family was well off, because, as we found out to our great dismay, the head of the family ran a black market operation serving the rebel forces. He traded in arms and medicines mostly...sometimes gold and currency...things he could steal easily from the Soviet troops. Biryukov found out by accident...he overheard the man making a deal to sell some stolen Russian rifles to the insurgents and was caught eavesdropping. So our choices were simple: assist Durani in obtaining more stolen goods to sell, or be murdered by the Afghan family that had taken us in. I'm sure you know which choice we made…"

"That's understandable. You did what you had to do to survive, I suppose…" Weis commented. "But that was many years ago, and the Soviets withdrew shortly after that. How did you get from there to here?"

"We left the Durani household as soon as we could, hoping we would never hear from that bastard again...that we could just disappear into the vast Soviet army serving in Afghanistan, but the old man tracked us down somehow. He sent a letter to Biryukov at our outpost, demanding that we repay his 'kindness and hospitality' toward us by stealing a certain amount of weapons and medicines from our post and sending the supplies to him, or he would inform our superiors that we were collaborating with the enemy, which would get us executed as traitors. We had no idea how he had found us, but the four of us agreed that we couldn't take any chances. We had to do as he asked. So we made a plan to break into the camp's armory and the infirmary late one evening to steal what we needed. We thought it was foolproof: we would get in quickly and take a small amount of the weapons and medical supplies, assuming a small loss wouldn't be noticed. We would get out quickly, and then somehow we'd send the things to the old man so he would leave us alone. But we didn't count on the emergency appendectomy that was occurring in the infirmary that night."

Tyomkin took a sip of his water, swallowing hard as he blinked back his tears. "The nurse caught us stealing the medicines and other supplies from the infirmary. I knew we should give ourselves up and throw ourselves on the mercy of the court, thinking maybe they would spare our lives and send us to prison when we told them about our circumstances. But Chernikov had other ideas…" Tyomkin's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper as he remembered the horror of that night. "Vladimir said there was no other way, that he wasn't willing to give up his life that easily. He said that the witnesses had to die. It was us or them...the fortunes of war, he said. I didn't want to do it, and I said so, but I could see no other way. I was too much of a coward to stand for what was right. So we...Biryukov, Chernikov, and I, we used the stolen guns we had with us to shoot the nurse and the doctor as they begged for their lives and for the life of their helpless patient...we killed all of them in cold blood as Alexei stood watch at the door. We left as quickly as we could, but somehow the doctor raised the alarm before he died, and the sentries at the camp gave chase as we fled for our lives. Vladimir Chernikov and Alexei Polzin were captured before they got very far from the camp. Biryukov was severely wounded in an exchange of gunfire, but I managed to carry him into the hills, trying desperately to escape. Later I found out that Chernikov had turned on Polzin, naming him as the ringleader of our gang of collaborators and saying it was Alexei who had ordered the murders. Vladimir also named Durani as the man running the black market operation. It wasn't long after that Durani's house and village were targeted in a bombing raid...almost no one survived in Durani's house, except his youngest son, who was severely injured, and one of his wives, who was blinded and paralyzed in the attack on the village while she was at the market."

The agents at the table with Tyomkin sat in stunned silence, staring at him in disbelief as they considered his story. Finally, Aubrey coughed quietly. "Why was Biryukov even in Afghanistan? He was in the diplomatic corps, wasn't he?" Aubrey gave Tyomkin a confused look as he handed him a page from the file. "He lived in the US for a while at the American Embassy in New York. Pyotr Chernikov told us his father is in South America. Your story has a lot of holes in it, Mr. Tyomkin."

"When Biryukov came home to Moscow from the US shortly after his wife died, he made many powerful enemies...people who thought he had become too Americanized, and that he was spreading the wrong kind of capitalist ideas. It was safer for him to join the army and leave for Afghanistan...that's how bad things had become for him in the city. That was how he escaped his troubles in Moscow. He found out where his wife's brother was stationed and managed to get assigned there by bribing a clerk in the war office. As for Vladimir Chernikov..." Tyomkin brushed away a tear. "He turned on one of his closest friends, making Polzin out to be an enemy collaborator and a murderer in order save his own life. Alexei Polzin was executed for those crimes. In return for his testimony against his friend, Chernikov's life was spared, but he still served seventeen years of hard labor in a Russian prison camp for murder, and then, when he was released, he went to South America to start a new life. Pyotr was a very young child when these events occurred, and his mother and I tried to keep him from discovering that his father was a cowardly bastard. Pyotr's mother died shortly after her husband went to prison, and the boy went to live with one of his mother's older brothers."

"But last we heard from Chernikov, his Uncle Biryukov was back in Moscow…", Booth said. "How did you get back into Russia from Afghanistan?"

"Biryukov and I knew we had to disguise our true identities if we were ever to return to Russia, because we were wanted men. As we were trying to find a place to hide in the foothills, we came across a burned out truck with two dead soldiers in the cab." Tyomkin swallowed a sob, shaking his head at the terrible memories. "We disfigured the faces of the dead men with one of the stolen guns, and then we exchanged our identification papers with those on the bodies. We changed our names to the names of those dead men to be able to go home, and, because it looked like we had died, the army stopped looking for us. Biryukov returned to Moscow with his new name after the war. He never fully recovered from his wound, and he's been crippled since then, living in poverty as a wounded veteran. I had been well educated in Russia before I was drafted, so I knew how to take the necessary steps to get copies of the papers I needed to establish my new identity. Because I spoke and wrote English well, I was admitted on a student visa under my assumed name to the United States, and after many years of hard work I was able to graduate from Georgetown with a degree in international business, and I also studied to become an attorney specializing in international law. I was eventually granted a green card and permanent resident status, and after several more years, I was able to become a citizen, all using my assumed name of Sergei Tyomkin. It was at that time that I sent to Russia for Pyotr and his wife as their sponsor. They settled in the DC area, and Pyotr began to work for his Grandfather Vladov's company. They have permanent resident status, also, and are now working toward becoming citizens of the United States." Tyomkin paused as he took a sip of his water, wiping his eyes as he continued.

"After his grandfather was arrested, Pyotr took over the import company, and he has worked very hard to make sure it has been run legally, even in the face of disapproval from some of the other family members who preferred the larger profits from the money laundering and other illegal activities. It is funny, is it not? Me, a thief and a murderer...I was the one who encouraged Pyotr to be an honest businessman." Tyomkin sighed heavily as he brushed away another tear. "I knew Durani's son had sworn vengeance on the four of us and our children...he swore that he'd destroy our families. I have made it my life's purpose to watch over the children of my comrades Chernikov and Polzin. That's how Pyotr and Mikhail knew each other, even though Pyotr said otherwise. He was ashamed of what Mikhail was doing...you know, the pornography, the prostitution and human trafficking. And, as you now know, I was not entirely successful in fulfilling my duty to Mikhail. I hoped that if I changed my name I could hide from Durani's son, but it appears he has found me as well." Tyomkin sighed as he ran his hands over his face. "I suppose, Director Booth, that you will turn me over to the immigration authorities since I am in the US illegally…"

Booth stared at the table for a few seconds before he answered. "Eventually, Mr. Tyomkin, you will have to answer for being in the country under false pretences, but that's not our top priority right now." He sat back in his chair and exhaled slowly. "Do you know where the child is, Mr. Tyomkin? It's imperative that we find him soon." Booth pressed his fingertips together, watching carefully for any sign that the man was lying.

Tyomkin studied his empty water bottle. "No, not for sure. I'm very sorry. Durani has many hiding places around the city. I know he has the boy…Mikhail told me that, bragging about the large amount of money they would get for selling the child to pornographers in Asia, but no matter how hard I pressed him, Mikhail wouldn't tell me where the boy was, so I couldn't take Vasily away from them. Polzin was also the man who told Durani where Snezhana Biryukova was hiding. Senator Camden unknowingly gave Mikhail the information when he called to request some child prostitutes. He wanted to make sure they didn't go to the Hickory Lane house, because she was there with the child." Tyomkin wiped away another tear. "I tried to stop Mikhail from being a part of the plan...to convince him that Ahmed Durani was an evil man, but Mikhail was greedy and stupid, and he let himself be dragged down to Hell by that monster." Tyomkin studied Booth for a minute before exhaling slowly. "But you know Durani, don't you, Director Booth. You know what he's capable of…"

"Ahmed Zubair Durani was the interpreter for my Army unit in Afghanistan. He told us that the Soviets had bombed his parents' house for no reason, and he had grand plans for how he was going to exact vengeance on the families of those who were responsible for that as soon as he could get to the US. We always thought he was just blowing off steam, but it appears we were wrong." Booth bit his lip and shook his head before he continued quietly. "Ahmed was very much in love with Hannah, or Snezhana, as you call her. He said her father Ivan had promised his father Mohammed that they would be married when they were of age, and he assumed she would keep that promise. Of course, Hannah had no idea what he was talking about, and after a very brief fling she left him...for me. I was there as a military contractor, training soldiers in the Afghan Army. As you can imagine, Durani developed a lot of animosity toward me because of my relationship with Hannah, to the point where he could no longer stay with our unit. Basically, the guy was fired. He was sent home to his crippled mother in disgrace."

Aubrey was shocked. "So that's who killed Hannah...and he also tried to kill Dr. B…"

Booth nodded in agreement. "I'm sure Durani personally murdered Hannah and I think he was also the one who tried break in at our house, but I think it was his accomplice, Polzin, who was actually carried out the attempt on Bones' life. Since he failed in that task, Durani killed him also. Durani knows how stealing the child would affect me and also Pyotr Chernikov. We need to find that bastard as soon as we can so we can save the child's life. The boy probably doesn't have much longer to live before Durani gets tired of this game. We need to find both of them today…" Booth was interrupted by a phone call. Glancing at his phone, he inhaled sharply.

"Excuse me...I need to take this." He rose quickly and left the room as the special agents continued to interrogate Sergei Tyomkin. A few minutes later he returned, pale and obviously upset. "Aubrey...you're with me. Something's wrong with Bones….


	13. Chapter 13 She's Gone

_A/N: the first part of this chapter takes place at the same time as when Booth was interrogating Sergei Tyomkin in the previous chapter. I tried to put all these things in the same chapter, but it confused even me, and I'm writing the story. The word 'tetya' is Russian for Aunt. Thanks for reading. If you have time to review, I'd appreciate it._

Angela glanced at the time on her phone. Ten AM...time to check on Brennan. Angela smiled to herself as she found her friend's number on speed dial. She'd promised Booth to call Brennan every few hours just to 'chat'. Hopefully, Brennan wouldn't figure out that Booth was hovering over her by proxy. "Hey, Sweetie! How are you doing this morning? I'm glad you were able to leave the hospital, even if you can't come into work today. Just make yourself at home, and help yourself to whatever veggies are in the fridge." Angela walked through the lab to her office as she talked to Brennan on her phone. "Have you had time to look over Senator Camden's X-rays?"

"I'm fine, Angela. I'm just really bored, and I'm not happy about being encumbered by the large boot on my foot and the sling on my arm. I've only been here an hour and I've already completed all of the work I can do on my tablet. I hope you have something more for me to do." Brennan grimaced slightly as she tried to get comfortable in Angela's new recliner, putting the chair's footrest up and opening the Jeffersonian lab program on her tablet as she clutched her phone between her left shoulder and her ear. "I really do appreciate you letting me stay at your house today, Angela, but I'd much rather be at the lab working. Booth is being extremely overprotective as usual, and I find it to be very annoying. Sometimes he can be quite unreasonable. And yes, I looked over the senator's X-rays. I agree with Cam and Hodgins...Senator Camden was strangled before his body was hanged in that tree." Finding the Senator's x-ray file, Brennan enlarged the films on her tablet screen as she described what she saw to Angela. "There are defensive wounds on the metacarpals and phalanges on his right hand that indicate that the senator struck his attacker at least once, and the microfractures on the top of his skull indicate that he was hit on the head with some sort of large blunt object. When we add this information together with the bruising Cam found on his neck, it seems certain that the senator was stunned by a blow to his head, manually strangled, probably by a man, based on the size of the bruises left on the senator's neck, and then the murderer staged the crime scene to make it look like the senator committed suicide by hanging himself." Sighing as she closed down the file on her tablet, Brennan began to complain again. "I have no idea why Booth insisted that I stay away from work today. Even injured as I am, I'm still able to read x-rays and study the actual damage done to the bones. Having a boot and a sling doesn't keep me from being able to think or from doing a large part of my job. The idea that I have to stay away from work today because of some minor injuries makes me quite restless and irritable. I'm almost positive I don't have a concussion, no matter what the ER doctor said, and when I looked at the x-rays of my right leg, I saw that the hairline fractures on my tibia and fibula are quite small. I probably don't even need this boot. My shoulder injury is more of a nuisance..."

Angela rolled her eyes as she listened to Brennan whine about being bored and shackled by her injuries, finally interrupting her tirade. "Listen, Brennan. According to your doctor, you've been run over by a large car, which broke your ankle, and as you tried to move out of the way, you fell and hit your head and bumped your shoulder, causing you to sustain a concussion and a shoulder separation. Trust me...you need to take it easy for a day or two, if for no other reason than to make your sweet husband happy, alright? He's under enough stress already dealing with these ongoing cases without having to worry about you coming to work to go with it. It'll be difficult for us to get by without you for a day or two, but I'm sure we'll manage somehow. Maybe you can skype us, alright? We've done that successfully in the past, remember?" Angela smiled to herself as she imagined the indignant look on her friend's face. _She hates not being here...you can't touch the bones if you use skype, right?_ "So are you comfortable? Did you try out my new massage chair yet? God, I love that thing...and so does Hodgins..."

Brennan chuckled as she leaned back and pressed the button which started the recliner to vibrate. "Yes, it's quite comfortable, Angela, and also somewhat stimulating. Booth and I may need to invest in one of these for use during intercourse. I think Booth would enjoy using this vibrating chair very much during sex...maybe as much as our washing machine's spin cycle..."

Angela laughed at Brennan's blunt observation. "Yeah, okay, Sweetie. Booth may not be happy that you shared that little tidbit of information with me. Listen, the reason I'm calling is that I found out something you might find interesting about Dr. Apalkova...the doctor who ran the fertility clinic where Booth made his donation for you, remember? It seems she was killed in a car accident about three months after Hannah had Irina's fertilized egg implanted into her uterus."

"So the doctor's death occurred after the first trimester of Hannah's pregnancy, correct? Hmm... I don't believe that's a coincidence…" Brennan mused.

"Why would you think that, Sweetie? I'm looking at the newspaper article on my computer screen right now. Based on what I'm reading, the police report says that the investigating officer believed that Dr. Apalkova fell asleep at the wheel on her way home after a late night at work and her car hit a large tree. No one else was in the car with her. Based on the autopsy report, she had no alcohol or illicit drugs in her system. There were no skid marks indicating that she had swerved or tried to brake the car. It was just a tragic accident…"

"Can you email me the article you're reading and the autopsy report? I know it seems like I'm overreacting, but the timing of Dr. Apalkova's death seems suspicious to me. After the ovum has been successfully fertilized, the first three months of gestation are critical for an in vitro pregnancy. Dr. Apalkova would've wanted to make sure that the ovum was implanted in an appropriate part of the uterus and was developing correctly. After the first trimester had passed, Hannah might have gone to a regular OB-GYN to have her pregnancy monitored, and it could be that whoever made the arrangements for Irina's eggs to be fertilized by Booth's semen decided that they couldn't take the risk of Dr. Apalkova talking about what happened...you know, if she had been bribed somehow to use Booth's samples instead of Pyotr's." Brennan paused for a minute as she thought things through. "Angela, can you find out who runs the fertility clinic now? I want to make arrangements for DNA testing on Booth's semen samples. That way we can find out with certainty if Pyotr's semen was substituted for one of Booth's samples."

"Let me see here…" Brennan could hear Angela leafing through a set of papers. "The new doctor in charge at the clinic is named Marilyn Sumpter. I'll text you her name and phone number. So I guess you think there's no chance that it was just an accident that things got mixed up or maybe that Booth's super stuff jumped into the dish with Irina's eggs by itself, right?" Angela arched her eyebrow and grinned as she remembered how pleased Brennan was with Booth's exceptional semen.

Angela could hear Brennan's sigh over the phone, and she knew her friend was probably rolling her eyes. "The probability of this fertilization of Irina's egg by Booth's semen being an accident or human error is extremely low. There are too many protocols in place to keep that from happening. I'm sure it does happen by accident on rare occasions, but the fact that Booth and Hannah used to be lovers points to a deliberate action on the part of both the doctor and Hannah."

"Okay, I'll see what I can find out about Dr. Sumpter, but you need to stay put, alright, Sweetie? You need to rest. Let me do the work, and I'll call you with all the sordid details as soon as I can. Hey, by the way, your intern Jessica is here helping out since you're gone today. She's doing a great job. I think she wants to work with her honey Aubrey at the FBI, but she says he's against that idea. Hodgins says that Jessica thinks that if you and Booth..."

Brennan suddenly interrupted Angela's rambling. "Alright. Oh, I have to go, Angela. Someone's at the door...it looks like a delivery person. There's a big white van in the driveway. I guess it's a good thing I'm here to let him in. Call me later when you find something out about Dr. Sumpter."

"Brennan...hey, Brennan...well, that's just great." Angela shook her head as she smiled to herself and put her phone back in her pocket. Of course Brennan couldn't be bothered to say goodbye when she ended a call. _Wait a minute...a delivery person?...I'm not expecting any delivery today._ Trying to quell the sliver of panic that was creeping into her mind, Angela hit speed dial, expecting Brennan to answer quickly. "Come on, Bren...pick up. Pick up…" _Maybe she's having a hard time getting around in that boot. I'll call back in a few minutes._ Angela tried to keep calm as she called Brennan five minutes later, but there was no answer. There must be a logical explanation for Brennan's failure to answer her phone...but what if she'd fallen? _She said she was having a hard time walking with her boot. Maybe she tripped._ Angela called Brennan's phone again, but there was still no answer. _Why aren't you answering, Sweetie?_ Exhaling slowly, Angela tried again, listening as the phone rang several times, but still no one answered. Now thoroughly frightened, Angela wrestled for a few minutes with what to do. Should she call Booth and have him race over to her house with sirens blaring, just to find out that Brennan was in the bathroom and had left her phone in the living room? Or maybe she had put her phone on silent so she could nap. Maybe she was listening to music on her tablet using headphones and couldn't hear the phone ringing. Angela thought of several logical scenarios that could explain why Brennan wasn't answering her phone. Still...the delivery person at the door when there shouldn't be one? Maybe Hodgins ordered something online and had forgotten to tell her. Angela pretended to be nonchalant as she called her husband. "Jack, it's me. Hey, were you expecting to have something delivered to the house today? Maybe something via UPS?'

"No, Angie, I'm not expecting anything. Why? What's wrong? You sound upset. Is everything okay? I'm on my way." Hodgins began walking as fast as he could on his crutches toward his wife's office.

He soon stood in Angela's office doorway and found her in tears, yelling into her phone. "Booth...you need to go check on Brennan! She's not answering her phone! She said something about a delivery person coming to the door, but we weren't expecting to have anything delivered today, and I'm so scared, Booth! I know it could be nothing serious...it's probably no big deal, but please go find out if she's okay! I won't be able to do anything here at work until I find out what's going on! Okay, thank you. Call me as soon as you know something…just hurry..."

"Angie, what happened?" Hodgins reached out to embrace her. "You're shaking…okay, deep breath...now please tell me what's going on..."

"Brennan's not answering her phone. I keep calling her, but she doesn't answer. I'm worried that something happened to her, so I called Booth, and he's gonna go check the house. She said something about a delivery man being at the door...and we weren't expecting any deliveries today. God, Jack...what if something's happened to her? She was supposed to be safe at our house! That's why Booth took her there instead of letting her come to the lab." Angela burst into tears as her husband held her close and tried to soothe her.

Oooooooooo

Sirens blaring, Booth and Aubrey drove to Angela's house as quickly as they could. Booth drew a ragged breath as he noticed the local police car sitting in the driveway and turned to Aubrey. "Jesus...who called the locals?" Aubrey could only shrug in reply. They walked up the front sidewalk leading to the house to join the police officer standing on the front porch. Feeling nauseated, Booth hesitated slightly before climbing the front steps up to the house. _God...this reminds me of when we found Hannah's body._ Flashing his badge, Booth looked over the cop's shoulder at the front door. "So what happened here, officer? Was it a robbery gone wrong?"

Shrugging, the officer turned toward the door and let them into the house. "We're not sure yet, sir. When we got here the door was standing wide open. The home's alarm system goes off if the front door stands open for more than ten minutes and the company that monitors the system calls the local police." The officer pointed to the door frame. "No sign of forced entry, but…" He led Booth and Aubrey through the foyer into the family room, where utter chaos reigned. Pointing to the blood spatter in the foyer, the policeman continued. "Whoever came in here tore the place up. There must have been one helluva fight in here."

Booth stood in shock as he looked around the room. Tables and chairs were knocked over, lamps were broken, and various knickknacks lay in the floor in pieces. He glanced at Aubrey, who was still talking to the officer, trying to catch the younger agent's eye. _This looks bad...where is Bones?...no ambulance...she's not here in the house….oh my God...okay, I can't panic. Gotta be strong, but...Jesus...where is my wife?…_ Picking up his wife's shattered tablet, Booth sank down on the sofa, waiting for Aubrey to finish his conversation when he saw Bones' phone lying next to an overturned table. _Jesus...we can't even track her with her phone...Okay, I gotta stay strong...I can't give up now…maybe she left me a message..._

"Booth! There you are. Look, I know things seem rough here since it looks like Dr. B is missing, so why don't you let me take care of this? You can go back to the office in case she calls you..." Aubrey stood looking down at his boss, who was staring off into space. Booth appeared to be in a state of shock.

Finally, Booth glanced up at the younger man and shook his head. "No, I'm staying here, Aubrey. She's not gonna call…" He pointed to the damaged phone on the floor. "He took her...he kidnapped her like he took the kid. It was Durani! I know it was! Goddammit! She's always so trusting when she answers the door. I bet she didn't even ask for identification...she just let the guy in. She didn't even ask Angela if she was expecting a delivery. Dammit. She should've known better." Booth shook his head as he looked around the room. "It's ironic, isn't it? I guess I should've let her go to the lab today. She would've been a lot safer there. Cam and Angela would've made sure of that. Jesus…that reminds me...I guess I'd better call Angela…"

"Your wife has a concussion, Booth. Even Dr. B. might not think straight after an injury like that." Aubrey patted Booth's shoulder gently, hoping it wouldn't get his arm broken. "It looks like she fought like hell. I bet she got some licks in on the guy, so maybe he had to go to the emergency room. I'll have Brooks start calling the different hospitals in town so they can be on the lookout for a patient with any suspicious injuries. Officer Burton says there's blood spatter in here and on the front porch, so even with her bad shoulder and broken leg she must've hurt the guy. Come on, Booth...I'll call Angela, okay? Let me take you home…you need to get some rest."

"No...I told Angela I'd let her know what I found." Grimacing at Aubrey's pained expression, Booth sighed. "Look..I know you're trying to help me...I really do. But I can't go back to my house until I know where Bones is. There's no way I can rest with the way things are now." Booth exhaled slowly as he ran his hands through his hair. "Okay, I tell you what...I am gonna let you call Angela for me, alright? Just give me a minute here to get my thoughts together. I gotta focus. I gotta get into hunt mode like I used to do when I was a sniper."

Walking a few steps away, Aubrey called the Jeffersonian to relay the bad news, telling Angela and Hodgins that they were needed at their house. Meanwhile, Booth closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, concentrating on the task before him as he tried to calm his raging emotions. After a few minutes of being on the phone, Aubrey turned to face Booth and watched in amazement as Booth's expression changed. He seemed to transform before Aubrey's eyes from a panicked, distraught husband of a missing woman into a dangerous, battle hardened Army Ranger on a mission to rescue a hostage and take out a target. Finally, Booth inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly, turning his intense glare onto Special Agent Aubrey.

"Okay, Aubrey. Here's what I want you to do. Put out a BOLO for Ahmed Zubair Durani. 'Male, six feet tall, about 180 pounds. Afghan national. Black hair, dark brown eyes, approximately 40 years old. Walks with a limp on his left side. Subject should be considered armed and dangerous. Approach with caution.' Got it? You should be able to get his picture from Homeland Security or the Armed Forces database, or maybe, if you're desperate, you can get a description from Sergei Tyomkin and Angela can draw a picture. That BOLO needs to go out to all the local, state, and federal law enforcement agencies in the areas surrounding the District. Make sure we share that with the CIA, Homeland Security and the NTSB as well. I don't want him to be able to get on a plane or a train, either." Booth glanced at his watch. "Angela said she talked to Bones about forty five minutes ago, and then Bones quit answering her phone. If we figure they've been gone from the house for 60 minutes at the most during the morning rush, we can probably figure out approximately how far they could travel in that time period. We need the locals to make a perimeter about, say, twenty miles around this house, and work back this way. They're gonna be looking for some sort of delivery van…Bones told Angela there was a van in the driveway." Suddenly Booth remembered the van that he'd seen on his street this morning. _Shit!...Durani followed me here from the hospital..._ "It's white with red lettering. It says something about produce delivery on it. It's a newer model GMC…"

Aubrey took down the information to add to the BOLO and glanced at his phone to check the time. "Yeah, okay. A produce delivery truck ? I'm gonna send Lopez and McAnally over to that Russian restaurant...you know, the Red Square Bar and Grill...as soon as we get a picture of Durani. Maybe we can catch a break. Maybe that's the van that delivers to that restaurant."

Booth bit his lip as he shook his head emphatically. "I doubt it, but it's worth a try." Slowly rubbing his chin with his hand, he sighed as he began to pace the family room, thinking about his next move. "I think what's gonna happen is this: Durani's gonna call me and tell me where Bones is so I can try to rescue her, and then he's gonna try to kill me when I show up to wherever it is that he's holding her...and then he'll want to kill her, too. We need to try to find him first."

Oooooooooo

Brennan blinked in the dim light, trying to get her eyes to adjust quickly to the shadows in the small room. She tried to sit up but grimaced as a dull, heavy ache pounded between her eyes, making her feel dizzy and nauseated. Her fractured leg and separated shoulder were both throbbing with pain. She glanced down to see that her feet were bound together with plastic zip ties wrapping over her boot, and her hands were bound behind her back, pulling on uncomfortably on her separated shoulder. Laying on her side, she tried to wiggle free of the ties binding her hands and feet, but nothing seemed to work. She grunted in frustration as she tried to turn over without much luck.

Panting from her exertion, she tried to relax for a minute, contemplating her situation. She'd put her phone on a table in the family room as she'd answered the door for a delivery man in a blue uniform, who'd flashed an ID. He'd handed her a box, and when she reached out to take it from him with her uninjured arm, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down toward the sidewalk. She fought back, flailing at his face trying to scratch him, and then trying to run back into the family room to call for help, but she was hindered by the boot on her lower leg. She'd tried to defend herself, throwing objects at her attacker and trying to pull furniture into his path as she made a dash for her phone, but she fell on the floor and suddenly he was on top of her...she'd tried to knee him in his crotch, but he had hit her in the head with something heavy…

Her eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and she was able to see that she was in some sort of storeroom or walk-in pantry. The wall next to the door leading to the outside was covered with a large, dark stain. _Possibly blood, and if that's true, with that amount, it would most likely be from a fatal wound…could it be linked to the cases? Wait...that's merely speculation, Brennan...no proof...you don't know how long that stain has been there..._

Brennan tried to focus on being calm, logical and rational. She muttered quietly to herself. "There must be some way to loosen these restraints. I may be able to cut them on something sharp, maybe something protruding from a shelf." She tried once again to sit up so she could look around the storeroom again when she thought she heard a faint rustling sound coming from a darkened corner.

"Who's there?" Straining to hear the sound again, Brennan called out again. "Who's there? I can hear you. Please make yourself known. I won't injure you. You have my word." Hearing the sound to her left, she tried to see what was causing it as she peered through the darkness. _I hope I'm not talking to vermin..._ Please answer me. I need some help."

Her heart was pounding as she heard some more rustling off to the side. She tried to see what was making the noise, but it was hidden by shadows. "Hello? Are you there?", she asked hopefully. The rustling began to move slowly toward her as a small human-like shape emerged from the darkness.

A young boy dressed in denim shorts and a Nationals tee shirt came to stand in front of her. He was dirty, bruised, and obviously terribly frightened. He stared at her with deep set brown eyes...eyes very similar to those of his father. Brennan suddenly realized the boy's name. "Are you Seejay?"

The child nodded solemnly and sniffled as a single tear rolled down his dirt smudged cheek. "Yes. Seejay is short for Vasily losef, and my last name is Biryukov. Who are you?"

"My name is Temperance Brennan. How many days have you been away from home, Seejay?"

Seejay held up his hand to show Brennan. "Five. The scary man who took me from my Tetya's house told me we were going on a trip, but he lied. Tetya Snezhana's dead. She tried to stop the bad man from taking me away from our house, and he killed her with a big loud gun. I saw him shoot her in the face." The little boy closed his eyes and sobbed as more tears began to roll down his cheek. "I was so scared. I miss her a lot already…"

"I know, and I'm sorry. I know you must've loved her very much. Do you want to sit with me and tell me about her?" Brennan nodded to a spot on the floor next to her.

"Yeah, I guess so." Seejay hesitated, watching Brennan closely for a few seconds before deciding she could be trusted. The child sprawled out on the floor next to her, sniffling again as he began his story, speaking so softly that Brennan could just barely hear him. "It's kind of hard to explain about her. You see, I'm different than most other boys because I have two mamas. There's my Mama Irina, who made me with my Papa, and my Tetya Snezhana, who carried me inside of her belly so I could have enough time to grow before I was born. I used to go see my tetya on weekends." He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Both of them love me very much, and I love both of them."

"I see." Brennan was impressed at how well Seejay had understood the situation between his parents and Hannah. "How old are you now?"

"I'm seven, almost eight, and I'm in second grade at Beauvoir Elementary School in Washington, DC. My Papa says I'm very smart, and I will grow up to be a very strong man...tall, handsome, and brave."

 _Just like your father…_ "I'm sure you're father is right about that, Seejay." Brennan tried to look around the storeroom for something she could use to cut the ties around her hands. "Did the bad man tie up your hands?"

"They were tied when I got here, but then the man cut the ties off with scissors. He said I have to stay here in this room because Tetya Snezhana did something bad to him, but I don't know what he means." Seejay paused for a few seconds, watching Brennan intently. "I'm hungry."

"When was the last time you ate anything?" Brennan tried to sit up again, but closed her eyes against another wave of nausea. "Did they give you any food this morning?"

"I had some leftover scraps from dinner last night. This restaurant doesn't open for breakfast, so no more food until later, I guess. Are you hungry?"

"A little bit." She tried to hide the tears that were building in the corners of her eyes. _Right now we have bigger things to worry about besides being hungry...like whether or not Booth will be able to find us in time…._


	14. Chapter 14 Choices

_A/N: Thanks for reading. If you have time to leave a review, I'd appreciate it. Thanks._

Ever the scientist, Brennan had been observant as she lay prone on the dirty concrete floor of the storeroom, watching as the length and direction of the shadows on the wall opposite of her changed over time, and she estimated that it was now the middle of the afternoon. She was still bound hand and foot, and her body had begun to ache in protest of its mistreatment. Seejay had tried to help her sit up, using the wall behind her as a backrest, but the throbbing in her head made it difficult to maintain the position for long without waves of nausea overtaking her, and she soon had returned to lying on the floor.

 _So I've probably been here for approximately five or six hours, and by now Booth must know that I'm missing._ Brennan tried to blink back her tears as she thought about what her husband must've been feeling throughout the day. _It seems I'm going to be the bait in the trap. Whoever has me wants to get to Booth...wants to kill him. And I know Booth will try to find me... He'll come after me, and put himself in danger in the process...He won't give up._ She wracked her brain again, trying to figure out how to get out of this dangerous situation, but she still felt foggy from the blow to her head she'd received earlier in the day. _What was it they said when they threw me in here...They'll probably move me after dark…_

She could hear the cooks noisily moving around in the kitchen adjacent to the storeroom, laughing and talking to each other as they made their preparations for the dinner rush. _Wait...that's not Russian...they're speaking Farsi, so I assume we're not at the Red Square Bar and Grill. We're probably at an Afghan restaurant..._ Her Farsi was rusty, but it seemed that the cooks were talking about every day news and their various romantic escapades. They seemed to have no idea that there were two prisoners being held in their kitchen storeroom. Brennan bit her lip as she resisted the urge to call out, knowing that the cooks probably wouldn't hear her over the din of their preparations, but if they did, there was no guarantee they would want to help her escape, and her captors might be alerted by the noise as well.

"Seejay", she whispered. "Come here, please." The little boy quickly came and sat next to her. "I need you to listen to me carefully, okay? I think the bad man who brought us here may want to move us to a different place tonight when it gets dark. You have to be calm and follow his directions, even though you're afraid. I'm afraid, too, but I think we can be brave if we stick together."

The boy nodded quietly. "Okay. I'll try to be brave. I promise...cross my heart." He smiled slightly as he made an X over the left side of his chest.

"I know you will." Brennan gave him a weak smile before she continued. "The man may try to hurt me, but I don't want you to do anything to try to stop him, because he might hurt you, too. You don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself, alright?" She paused as she thought about the best way to protect the child in an unpredictable and dangerous situation. "I think we need a secret word, okay? If any bad men begin shooting guns, you need to try to get away from them and find some place to hide. Don't leave your hiding place until you hear the secret word, and that way you'll know it's safe. You know the voice of the man who took us and brought us here...you know what he sounds like, right?" The boy nodded as he listened solemnly. "He may tell you it's okay to come out of your hiding spot, but he won't know the secret word, and you should stay hidden until the police come to help you. You'll know they're the police because they'll have badges. You know what badges are, right?"

The little boy smiled. "Yes...they're flat, shiny metal things. Do you think the police will find us soon, Temperance? I wanna go home."

"I know they're looking for us right now, Seejay." _I know Booth is looking for us right now…_ "What word would you like to use for our secret word? It needs to be something easy to remember, but something that only you and I would know...not an easy word like cat or your first name."

"I don't know." Seejay shrugged as he studied his shoes, thinking about what Brennan had said. "It's hard to think of one." After a few seconds of serious thought, his face brightened a bit. "Can we use my puppy's name?"

"An excellent idea! I love dogs. What is your puppy's name? Tell me about him, okay?" Brennan asked, nodding for him to continue.

"His name is Sasha. He's this tall." Seejay held his hand level with his shoulder. "He's a Russian wolfhound, or, if you're speaking Russian, a Borzoi. They get really big, and really shaggy. Sasha has lots of curly white hair. He's about six months old. He already knows some tricks, too. He can sit and shake hands and roll over. Papa says he's going to train him to be a guard dog, so our house will be safe, but Mama says Sasha is just for pretty, and that he's too much of a big baby to scare the bad guys...that he would run away from them instead. He's afraid of butterflies and thunder. When it thunders he wants to come get in bed with me." The little boy chattered happily about his puppy as Brennan listened quietly, fervently hoping that he'd be able to go home to see his puppy soon.

As dusk was turning into darkness Brennan heard the sound of harsh voices coming from the alley on the other side of the exterior door. Brennan motioned with her head for Seejay to move away from her, so he scuttled quietly back to a darkened corner away her as the door swung open, and a loud, hoarse laugh rumbled across the small room. "Okay, my dears...time to go for a nice long ride…"

Oooooooooo

Booth sat at the desk in his office fidgeting with his pencil, trying to concentrate on the file he had open on his computer monitor as he chewed his thumbnail, but he soon realized that it was going to be impossible to get any work done. He checked his watch again. It was 5:30 in the afternoon, and he still no closer to finding Bones than when she was first reported missing that morning. Director Stark had made his position abundantly clear to Booth. As a Deputy Director, Booth was to stay at the Hoover while Aubrey and the other agents that worked with the Special Agent in Charge of Major Crimes began the search for the missing Dr. Brennan. That was the normal chain of command at the FBI: Deputy directors stayed in the office and agents worked in the field. Cursing angrily, Booth threw his pencil across the room, bouncing it off the wall opposite of his desk. Not knowing who had Bones was slowly eating away at his soul, and he knew he couldn't take this stress much longer. _Durani knew how it would affect me if he took Bones. He's trying to get the upper hand, but what does he want?_ That was the question haunting Booth...why was all of this happening? Was all of this pain really linked Durani's failed relationship with Hannah? _The son of a bitch must really be off his rocker..._

Checking his phone again and finding nothing new, Booth sighed as he stared out the window of his office. He silently offered up another prayer for his wife's safe return, wondering if the Lord had grown tired of hearing from him about that subject. He desperately wanted to be doing something besides sitting at his desk... something besides praying and waiting to hear from Aubrey. _I'm a man of action, dammit. I need to be out looking for my wife. I can't just sit here and do nothing._ He pounded on his desk, and sprang from his chair, pacing the room like a caged animal as he thought about all the scrapes he'd been in with Bones. They'd been through so much together, and she'd never lost faith in him...

It was a small comfort to think about how resourceful Bones was when she needed to be. When she'd been buried alive with Hodgins in the car, they'd managed to extend their oxygen long enough so she could rig the air bag's explosive charge to blow out the car's windshield. Booth inhaled sharply as he remembered all of the emotions he felt when he saw that tiny puff of smoke and dust rise from the floor of that huge, featureless depression in the earth. He'd dug her out of the dirt as she gasped for air, and it felt like his heart had started beating again when he finally saw her smile at him. She said she knew he'd come...she had faith in him. _God, please...I can't let her down this time...I've got to find her..._

That was just the first of many times when her resourcefulness proved to be an immensely valuable attribute. Somehow she'd managed to save his life when the Gravedigger kidnapped him. He was trapped on an old naval vessel that was going to be exploded and sunk, with no earthly idea of how he was going to survive, but Bones had been extraordinarily determined...nothing was going stop her from getting to him on time. He remembered watching as that helicopter descended slowly from the sky and landed on the deck of that ship, and it was like his guardian angel had arrived to rescue him. Bones was exhausted and disheveled, but he'd never seen her look more beautiful as she did on that helicopter as he rushed into her arms.

He also knew his Bones was brave and brilliant. She'd managed to use her considerable intellectual abilities to defeat the likes of Howard Epps, Heather Taffet, and Christopher Pelant. She'd also found a way to communicate with Angela while she and Christine were gone for three months. She'd also inspired brilliant people to work with her. Booth knew there were literally dozens of people at the Jeffersonian going over every bit of trace evidence from Angela's house they could get their hands on, hoping to find one tiny shred of cloth or speck of dirt that might tell them where she was, and they'd been trained by a team led the best forensic anthropologist in the world. Bones had proved that many times over, having solved several supposedly unsolvable murder cases with what seemed to be a single strand of hair or a tiny chip of bone, matching the unknown decedent with an identity, and giving back names and faces to the nameless ones left behind by murderers.

He smiled to himself, in spite of the gravity of the situation. He knew his wife well. Not only was she a genius, she was tenacious. She'd never give up, no matter what the circumstances were. Booth was fairly certain that she was alive...that Durani was going to use her to bait the trap that was being set to draw him in. If that was true….and he wouldn't let himself even consider the alternative...if that was true, her brilliant mind was already working on a way to get herself out of the situation safely. Durani would be in for a major surprise...even with a bad shoulder and a broken leg, Bones would figure out a way to defend herself against whatever assault he might throw at her. Puffing out a sigh, he prayed again to all the saints he could think to call on. Bones had to be alive...there couldn't be any other option. If anything happened to his wife, how would he live? How could he explain it to his children and to her father? She had to be okay….she just had to be okay. That was all there was to it. Nothing else mattered. His job, his life...they were secondary to Bones' safety. The only other important things in his life were his kids...and he had to make sure their mother was safe, even if it meant losing his job. He had to go look for his wife. So the decision was made. His job be damned...even if he got fired, it wouldn't matter as long as he had Bones back. He was going to look for his wife, no matter what that jackass Stark said. He grunted with frustration as he glanced at his phone again and saw that there were still no new messages. Booth knew that for his own peace of mind he needed handle this situation himself. The only problem was that he had no idea where to start looking for Bones.

He sat back down at his desk and accessed the computer file on the case, reading over the particulars again, looking for anything that might give him a clue as to where Bones and the boy might be held, when he heard Aubrey clear his throat as he stood at his door.

"McAnally and Lopez just got back from checking out the Red Square Bar and Grill." He shook his head and exhaled slowly as he sat down across from Booth. "There wasn't anything suspicious...it was clean. The couple who own it now are from Taiwan. They bought the restaurant a year ago. They have no idea why Polzin's body was dumped in the alley behind the place. The Forensic techs dusted the restaurant and the alley for prints, but they didn't find anything related to our case. I don't think Dr. B was ever there, Booth. I think Durani left Polzin's body there as a ruse just to throw us off the trail. I'm really sorry…I wish I had better news."

"I know." Booth flicked his eyes at Aubrey with a slight nod. He'd been on that side of a case before, trying to give a victim's family some hope, and not having anything good to tell them. "I still think Durani's gonna call me and want me to meet him somewhere so he can try to lure me into his trap, but if we had an idea where he's hiding before he calls, we might have an advantage. I've been looking over the information about all of the people involved, and then it hit me. Pyotr Chernikov is in the import/export business. He must have some warehouses somewhere, right? I haven't been able to reach him by phone for some reason, but I looked his company up on the internet. He's got a complex of about 7 storage buildings and warehouses over in Baltimore." Booth turned the monitor so Aubrey could see the map of the city's waterfront. "We know Durani has Chernikov's son. It seems to me that it would be adding insult to injury to show up at his warehouses and flaunt that fact." Booth drummed his fingers on his desk as he studied the map on his monitor. Glancing at Aubrey, he continued. "It really bothers me that I can't reach Chernikov. I hope his lawyer didn't talk him into doing something stupid. I want you to send Lopez and McAnally over to his building to see him, to make sure he's okay. I'm gonna get Weis to call the Baltimore field office and get the RICO guys to set up a perimeter around the warehouse complex. He can get the Baltimore PD to help out."

"Booth…" Aubrey's expression told Booth that he had several problems with the plan. "That's a lot of manpower to put into play for a hunch, isn't it? I mean, you haven't actually heard from the guy, have you? What if it turns out that they're in Newark, or still in DC? We'd just be wasting valuable time, which is probably what this Durani guy wants. We'd be playing right into his hands. I know you feel like you have to do something to find Dr. B, but shouldn't we wait to see if the bastard calls you and gives you a place to meet him? He's gonna tell you to come by yourself anyway, so if he sees guys that look like cops, it's gonna be bad news. Do you really want to trust your gut on this?"

"Yeah...I'm gonna trust my gut. I know this bastard personally, remember? He's looking to inflict the maximum amount of damage possible on me." Booth sat back in his chair and threw his head back, looking up at the ceiling. "Jesus, this whole thing makes me feel like I'm tied up in knots. I gotta blow off some steam, you know? I gotta do something, Aubrey. I can't just sit here and do nothing without going crazy. I mean, I trust you, and I know that you know what you're doing, but I gotta do something to help. I need to go look for Bones."

"I'm sure this son of a bitch knows that, too, Booth, and that's what he wants, right? To make you angry and frustrated so you're off your game. He wants you to be distracted." Aubrey sighed sadly as he listened to Booth. "Stark wants you to stay put, you know? Directors stay in the office...that's what he told me to tell you." Aubrey raised a hand to prevent Booth's curse laden protests. "How about this? When we get a lead about where to look, you can go with me as my supervisor. You can tell Stark you were evaluating my readiness for taking on more responsibility."

"Well, that's a great idea, except for two things. Number one, we don't know if or when we're gonna get any leads on where to look for Bones. Number two, I don't give a shit about what Stark thinks, and if that bastard wants to tell me how he thinks I should do my job, he can get off his ass and come downstairs to see me himself. I'm not gonna rely on anyone but myself to look for my wife...not even you, Aubrey." Booth turned back to his computer monitor. "You just get your agents over to Chernikov's place, and have them ask about Tyomkin, too. Call Baltimore PD and have them check out those warehouses. I know what I'm doing…"

Frustrated with Booth's damned stubbornness, Aubrey leaned forward in his chair, trying once again to get Booth to listen to him. "Booth...you can't just charge into the situation kamikaze style. We need to be calm and keep our emotions in check, okay? We gotta wait and see what they guy's next move is…"

"Fine." Booth glared with cold fury at the man sitting across the desk from him. "That's the company line, and you've done a great job sticking with it. Now, tell me honestly...if Jessica was in the same predicament, what would you be doing right now?"

Aubrey exhaled slowly as he rubbed his hand over his chin and shook his head. "I'd do whatever it took to get her back, but I'd also turn to you for help so we could have a workable plan in place to do just that. That's all I'm saying, Booth. I'll help you get your wife back, but we can't go off half-cocked, running willy-nilly all over the District. We need a solid plan of action set in place..."

Booth's phone rang to interrupt their discussion. Seeing that it was an unknown number, Booth put his finger to his lips to quiet Aubrey as he put the phone on speaker. "Booth…"

Hoarse laughter cackled from the phone. "Deputy Director Booth...so nice to speak with you again, my old friend. How many years has it been now? Eight? Ten? You sound well…I've missed talking to you. It seems you've made a fine new life for yourself since you're no longer training Afghan soldiers to fight in some stupid war. I suppose you've seen how successful you were in training me, right? I've used all of the things you taught me when we were in Afghanistan together. I'm now an accomplished killer, just like you are..." Durani laughed again. "I know you saw what happened to Hannah and Mrs. Jordan. I was a very good student, wasn't I?"

"Where's my wife, Durani? I'm gonna kill you, you fucking bastard..."

"Ah, temper, temper, Booth. Being angry with me will get you nowhere." More harsh laughter could be heard in the background as Durani growled at someone in Farsi before returning to his call. "You always were a hothead, weren't you? Wasn't that what Hannah loved about you? What was it she said about you? Oh yes, that was it. You had a zest for living and a passion for life. It seems your wife has a passion for life as well. I've enjoyed her passion very much...much more than I ever enjoyed passion with Hannah. You're a lucky man, Booth. Your wife's body was quite beautiful before I had my way with her, but she seemed to enjoy my efforts anyway."

Aubrey caught Booth's eye and shook his head, and Booth, pinching his lips together and clenching his fists, silently nodded in agreement. They both recognized Durani's taunts were an effort to get a rise out of Booth so he'd lose focus and lash out in anger. Booth inhaled deeply before he continued. "What do you want, Ahmed? Is it money? An apology? What will it take to get my wife back?"

"I'm a fair man, Booth. I'll give you a chance to see your wife one last time...two hours from now, at the address I'll send you in a text. Come alone. Oh, and you can forget about saving Chernikov's warehouses...I think you'll find that they're all on fire. It must be a four alarm blaze by now...the accelerant I used on them was quite volatile. He may think he's losing everything, but I still have his son…your son..." More harsh laughter came through through the speaker before the phone clicked as the call ended.

Oooooooooo

It was Ahmed Durani who had entered the storeroom where Brennan and Seejay were being held captive. He walked over to Brennan, grinning savagely as his eyes raked up and down her prone form. "You have a lovely body, Dr. Brennan. Too bad I don't have time to make love to you right now. Maybe later tonight, after Booth's dead…while you're begging for your life." She winced in pain as he roughly pulled her up to her feet and pushed her face against the wall, holding her in place with one hand on her back as he reached down to cut the restraints with his other hand. "After our little tangle this morning, I know you can walk, even with that boot…"

Brennan turned and glared defiantly at Durani, her eyes blazing with anger as she rubbed her sore wrists. "You're obviously insane. Even if I can walk, why would I want to go anywhere with you? I see no logical reason why I should choose to cooperate with you."

Laughing hoarsely, Durani reached up and pulled Brennan's hair tightly with his left fist to hold her head so he could look into her face as he pressed his body close to hers. She struggled against him, trying to pull free, but he was too strong for her. "I love a woman with a fighting spirit...it makes the sex between us so much better. But I have little time right now for love or sex. I have an appointment to keep with your husband in a few hours." He glanced over toward the corner where Seejay was cowering and turned back to Brennan with a wicked grin on his face. "You'll do as I say, Dr. Brennan, because even though you are a rational scientist, you are also a mother, so you will be concerned for the life of the child. You can choose...comply and the child will be unharmed. Fail to do what I ask…" Durani took his pistol out of his belt and aimed it at the whimpering boy. "...and the child's life is forfeit."

Brennan's gaze turned toward the terrified little boy. Swallowing her anger and pride, she averted her eyes as she sighed her answer. "Alright. I'll do as you ask."

Letting go of Brennan's hair, he smirked as he gestured toward the store room's outside door. "Excellent.", Durani said in a smarmy tone of voice. "I'm glad you've chosen the more rational course of action. We're all going to walk quietly out to the alley, and then you're both going to get into the back of my van without any more arguments. No talking, please..."

It seemed to Brennan that they drove for hours before they arrived at their destination. Her bruised and battered body hurt all over as she was bounced around in the back of the van, but she hoped to remain stoic to keep Seejay from being any more scared than he already was. "Remember, Seejay. We have to be brave."

The child was wide eyed with fright as he nodded at Brennan. "Yes, I know. I'm trying, but it's hard. The man that talks funny is the man who killed Tetya Snezhana with a gun, and I'm afraid of him." Seejay sniffled quietly as he tried to snuggle next to Brennan for comfort. "I'm so scared. I want my mama and papa."

Brennan put her arm around the little boy to comfort him. "I know you miss your parents, Seejay. I also know they're doing everything they can to find you so you can go home soon."

Finally the van stopped. Brennan and Seejay were dragged from the van by two men and hustled into a massive brick building that had most likely been a warehouse at one time. It had a large open area in the center surrounded by what appeared to be several smaller rooms on the perimeter walls. Durani flipped a series of switches and the overhead fixtures flickered to life. The harsh fluorescent lighting was focused on four armless wooden chairs in the center of the room, arranged in two sets of two...two chairs on one side facing the other two chairs with about ten feet between the pairs. "Welcome to my humble abode." Durani snickered wickedly as he arched an eyebrow at Brennan. "I've always wanted to say that." He motioned for Brennan and Seejay to sit side by side in one of the pairs of chairs. "Please sit...make yourselves at home. I apologize that the accommodations are not as elegant as a wealthy woman like you is used to, Dr. Brennan, and I'm afraid we're short on refreshments this evening. This room used to be Mikhail Polzin's sound stage. This building…" Durani gestured grandly toward the walls and ceiling. "This used to be the building where he made his 'art films' and the other types of pornographic videos that he sold on the internet. What a waste of time those films were, but no matter. I killed him because he was a failure, so this is my building now. Maybe I can find a movie for you to watch while we wait for your husband, Dr. Brennan. Do you and Director Booth like to watch pornography to put you in the mood for sex? Hannah liked that…she liked to watch the kinky sex films." Durani's attention shifted to a doorway in the shadows on the far side of the room. "I believe the rest of my guests will arrive shortly. Oh, here's one now." A man escorted Pyotr Chernikov into the circle of light in the room's center. Durani used his pistol to point to one of the chairs. "Welcome. Please sit down, Pyotr."

"Papa!" Seejay would've run to his father, but Durani's hand on his shoulder kept him in his seat. "I know you're glad to see this man, but you can't go to him now. Not yet, Seejay. We must wait for our other guest."

A few minutes later, Brennan's heart rate accelerated as she heard a familiar voice. "Bones...thank God. Are you alright?"

Ahmed Durani stood between them and held up his hand before Brennan could answer. "Please sit down, Director Booth. We have important business to discuss." Booth glared at Durani as he slowly complied. "Good. Please listen carefully to what I have to say, gentlemen." Moving behind the chairs where Brennan and Seejay were sitting, Durani turned to face Booth and Chernikov and chuckled evilly as he pulled his gun from the waistband of his pants. "I wish to make a bargain with you. You gentlemen will choose what I am to do. You will decide which one of my prisoners I will release. So choose, Booth...will you save your wife, or will you save the child?"


	15. Chapter 15 Dangerous Games

"Well? Which one of these lovely people do you choose to save, gentlemen? Vasily Biryukov or Temperance Brennan? Come now, it's not a difficult question…" Ahmed Durani stood behind Seejay and Brennan with his arms folded across his chest, a pistol gleaming in his right hand. "I'm afraid you don't have much longer to decide. I find that I'm easily bored." He casually pointed his pistol at Seejay's head and laughed. "However, I do like this game...this test of nerves. Maybe we can play Russian roulette later, eh, Pyotr? You won't mind playing a game with me, will you?"

Booth glanced furtively at Chernikov, trying to catch his eye. He knew they both had to remain calm if they were going to successfully take down Ahmed Durani. They couldn't respond to Durani's ugly taunting with anger or fear. They had to remain in complete control of their emotions if they hoped to gain enough advantage to survive this terrible situation. Chernikov was obviously stressed, but he returned Booth's glance evenly and flicked his eyes at Durani, nodding slightly without changing expression. It seemed he understood what was at stake and how he should respond. _Good._ Booth looked at Chernikov with a new respect. _I think Pyotr's gonna stay strong. I gonna need all the help I can get..._

Booth then briefly made eye contact with his wife, raising an eyebrow at her as he glanced at the child. To someone unfamiliar with the strength of their emotional connection, it would've seemed to be a meaningless exchange, but Booth could tell that Bones knew to follow his lead and to let him do the talking, no matter how tempting it was for her to jump into the fray. She sighed softly as she bit the inside of her cheek, frustrated at being reduced to a spectator in this battle of wills, but she knew she needed to defer to Booth's expertise in this case, especially since Booth had known Durani in the past. _Booth knows what that man is capable of...and he also knows how to handle this situation. I'll take care of Seejay…_

Durani lowered his pistol and moved away from Seejay as he continued to taunt Booth and Chernikov. Brennan saw her chance and quietly reached over to tap the little boy on the arm. Startled, he turned quickly to look at her. She put her finger to her lips, making sure he understood that he needed to stay quiet, and then she nodded over her shoulder to the blackness behind them. The child turned to look and then nodded back in response. If he got a chance, he would run in that direction and try to find a place to hide. Brennan gave him a sly thumbs up. _Good. Maybe he can think about where to hide instead of focusing on being scared._ She looked across at Booth, who seemed to be exuding strength and calm even in the face of grave danger. _I hope Booth has asked his god to keep him safe…_

Trying to appear nonchalant, Booth checked the time on his watch and settled back in his chair, looking bored, his hands folded in his lap as he glanced around the room. He'd been searched by a couple of Durani's goons before he entered the room, and they'd relieved him of his service revolver and phone, but, thankfully, they had ignored his jewelry. The tiny GPS device in imbedded in Booth's watch had been sending his present location to Aubrey, who was a few minutes behind him. Help was on the way, but Aubrey would need time to get the SWAT team into place around the immense building before they could make their move. Booth and Chernikov needed to keep Durani talking...to play to his vanity, and perhaps to his insanity, if they had any hope of a successful outcome. Booth had remembered that Durani was the type of guy who liked to listen to himself talk. It'd been that way while they were together in Afghanistan, but there was no reason to think he'd changed a lot over the last several years. Booth wanted to lure Durani into playing a dangerous game of chicken, and he fervently prayed that the outcome would be positive enough make the risk worthwhile. He needed to poke holes in Durani's composure, needling and teasing the man enough to make him angry and defensive. Knowing Durani, the guy would spout off, trying to prove himself to be correct, and hopefully that would buy them some time until Aubrey arrived. Booth had to push Durani to the breaking point in order to force him into making a careless mistake, without making him so irate that he killed one of his hostages. If all else failed, Booth thought he'd be able to take the bastard down with some of his Ranger close quarters combat skills, especially since the guy's left leg was weak, but that would be the last resort. It wasn't a great plan, but it was the best Booth and Aubrey could come up with on such short notice: keep Durani talking until the cavalry could arrive to neutralize the threat...

"Alright, gentlemen, time's up. Now you must choose." Durani moved to stand behind the chairs where Brennan and Seejay were sitting. "Perhaps I'll choose for you. Would that make it easier?" He pointed his gun at the back of Seejay's head. "I choose to let Dr. Brennan live so I can enjoy raping her later..."

After sending up a quick prayer to St. Michael, Booth suddenly laughed loudly to draw Durani's attention away from the child. "What the hell are you talking about, Ahmed? Nobody has to choose anything. You're not gonna shoot anybody right now." Booth pasted on the fake smile he used when he wanted suspects to relax, chuckling as he shook his head and pointed to Brennan and Seejay. "You're kidding about hurting them, right? What kind of man are you, anyway? You've really sunk to a new low, you know, picking on an injured woman and a scared little kid, although, judging from your fresh black eye and those bruises and deep scratches on your face and neck, that injured woman did a number on you, didn't she? Good job, Bones! Way to make him pay!" Booth gave Brennan a broad wink. "But I guess it makes you feel like a big man, doesn't it? Does it make you feel like you're in control when you threaten people weaker than you? Don't you have better things to do with your time?" Booth flashed a cocky smirk at the man holding the pistol, crossing his arms over this chest. "It seems you've spent a lot of time and energy on holding them hostage, and for what? They're not gonna give you the relief you want, Ahmed. You're still gonna be angry, no matter what happens to them, and I'm gonna be the guy you're angry at. I'm the one who stole your woman, right? And you know why I stole her from you?" Booth shrugged a shoulder and laughed. "There was a simple reason. I took her away from you because it was so fucking easy, that's why. I wasn't really all that interested in Hannah until I found out you wanted her, you know? Just another cute blonde with a great body...but when I found out that you planned to marry her, I decided what the hell? Why not just take her for myself? After all, everyone knew you were just a crippled loser. I knew she'd rather have a stud like me any day...and I was right. She didn't even put up a fight...I snapped my fingers and she came a-runnin' after me..."

Booth watched as Ahmed's face contorted with rage. _He's getting angry...Good. Time to apply more pressure...to twist the screws even tighter._ "Hannah was really cute, and she was good in bed, so I didn't mind having her around. It was fun...I just waltzed in and took her away right from under your nose, even though I knew you loved her. And you know what else? I was able to steal her from you so easily because I'm a better man than you'll ever be, Ahmed. I'm smarter than you, I'm better looking and stronger than you, and I'm a much better lover than you. You might as well let the woman and child go free and try to deal with me, seeing how you think you're so brave. I'm not afraid of you...I know you're all talk and no action. That's what Hannah said about you, too...all show and no go. Can't face a real man by yourself, can you? You're a goddamn coward, Ahmed...not even worth spitting on." Booth made a show of shaking his head again, grinning at Chernikov as he continued in a snarky tone of voice. "Ahmed's just chicken shit, you know, Pyotr? Nothing to worry about with this guy...he's an impotent little man...he can't even walk right." Chernikov laughed derisively as he looked at Durani with a sneer.

Durani lowered the pistol away from Seejay's head and glared at Booth, tears of rage filling his eyes. His voice cracked with emotion as he ranted against all of the people seated around him. "You're right, Booth...I'm very angry at you...furious...and at Chernikov as well. I hate all of you...just like I hated Hannah and Mikhail Polzin. Just like I hate Sergei Tyomkin. I want all of you to feel the pain that I've suffered for all these years. I want your pain to last for the rest of your life!" He gave a raspy laugh as he pointed the pistol first toward Brennan and then at Seejay. "I want you to understand what you both did to me, and I want you to pay for it with the blood of those you love. Booth has to pay with his wife's blood for stealing Hannah from me, and Chernikov owes me his son's blood because of his father's actions against my family." Choking back a sob, Durani moved to stand in front of his prisoners, gesturing with his pistol as he spoke. "None of what has happened over the last few days is my fault, you know...I had to do these things to regain my family's honor...the honor you both took from me! I swore that I would seek vengeance for my family's destruction. This child…" He pointed at Seejay. "...he was the key. He was going to be the key to destroying you all…that is his whole purpose for living."

Booth laughed mirthlessly. "You're crazy, Ahmed. That little kid? C'mon...why not admit it? You got nothin'...you're just a pathetic cripple." Booth rolled his eyes as he faced Chernikov, pointing at his temple and making circles with his finger. "The guy's nuts, ain't he?"

Durani drew himself up to his full height and threw his shoulders back. Thumping his chest, Durani sneered at Booth. "That just proves how stupid you really are, Booth. I'll tell you what really happened, and then maybe you'll understand that I'm perfectly sane. It was a brilliant idea...the perfect plan, and it would've worked if Hannah hadn't failed me...but she was unreliable once again, just like she always was. Stupid fucking bitch let her feelings get the better of her, so she wouldn't follow the plan I had so carefully laid out." Durani began to pace back and forth again, waving his pistol wildly in the air as he explained the plan. "After you left Hannah…"

"Hannah left me, Ahmed...it was her choice…" Booth grinned quickly at Brennan. "...and then I was blessed enough to have children with the woman of my dreams, unlike you…you'll never have a child to carry on your family's name. Your family name will die when you're gone. Too bad you'll never know what it's like to have the love of a fine woman, either. You'll never experience that in your lifetime, because no decent woman would have you, you know? You can't find a woman as wonderful as mine..."

Durani snorted in disdain as he glanced over his shoulder at Brennan. "Your wife is like a dirty old sock in comparison with my beautiful Hannah." He reached up to brush away a tear. "Hannah was so brokenhearted after you ended your relationship with her, and she wanted me to comfort her. She called me to tell me that she had loved you with her whole heart, but you'd left her for Dr. Brennan. She said she had come up with a plan to make you take her back, but she needed some money to make it work. Hannah was going to bribe Dr. Apalkova at the fertility clinic so she could use one of your semen donations to fertilize Irina's eggs. She knew from the way you treated your older son that you would want to be involved with your child's life, even if you didn't love his mother. But I convinced her that there was a better way to things…that she didn't need you, Booth, because I loved her so much more than you ever could, even if I couldn't give her a child." Durani turned to face Chernikov, giving him a wild eyed smile. "I had a way that I could kill two birds with this one plan! Hannah would carry your child, Chernikov, but the child wouldn't really be yours...it actually would be Booth's child. Then when the child was about two, the child would disappear forever...kidnapped, never to be found. Hannah would tell Booth his child was gone...Chernikov would lose his child…and I would begin to have my revenge. Both of your families would both be ruined like mine was. Both of you would lose your child..."

Chernikov listened to Durani rant for several minutes before finally interrupting him. "Now I know you must be crazy. My cousin would not stoop so low as to steal a child. You must be insane to think she'd go along with your stupid plan. I know she would never have anything to do with scum like you."

Durani giggled wildly. "You didn't know her like I did, Chernikov. She would do anything for me….anything I asked, because she loved me dearly, especially when I told her that I would bring her father here to the States from Moscow. We would take the child to the Philippines, or perhaps Thailand, and sell him to the sex trade dealers. They always need young children for their pornography videos and for their more discriminating clients. Then we would take the money and bring her father home. She was so happy to help me...so excited to see her father..."

Booth scoffed and rolled his eyes. "She loved you dearly? Bull shit, Ahmed. She spent, what...maybe three weeks with you in Afghanistan before she got tired of you? And then she left you without giving you a second thought. You were just an easy fuck...a way for her to scratch an itch. That was all she wanted…and even then she had a hard time getting anything from you anyway since you can't get it up most of the time, right?" Booth shook his head as he grinned at Chernikov and laughed again. "Hannah said the Ahmed here was a real 'wet noodle', you know?" Pyotr arched his eyebrow and laughed out loud. "Wanna hear the best part, Ahmed? You went to all that trouble to help her, and Biryukov wasn't even her father...her real dad was an American."

"No, that's not what she told me…" Durani looked confused. "She said she was really Russian...that her last name was Biryukova...:"

Booth clicked his tongue against his teeth as he tilted his head and gave Ahmed a cocky grin. "Nope. Biryukov gave her his name, Ahmed, but he wasn't truly her father…she was an illegitimate child...sorry..."

"No, that's not true! I know Biryukov was Hannah's father. This just proves how little you knew about Hannah, Booth! The reason she kept coming back to Afghanistan wasn't simply to report on American involvement in the war. She also wanted to gather information about her father's time in the army during the Soviet-Afghan war in the 1980's. She wanted my help to do some research into his deployment because of my family name. She showed me a letter he'd written to her which mentioned my family and my home village, and she had a copy of her father's picture from when he was a young man." Durani stared off into space for a few minutes as he thought about the photograph. "I was quite surprised when I recognized Hannah's father. He had come to my house one night many years before with three other Russian soldiers. They stayed two days with us because of a winter storm. I was a young boy, but the memory is still vivid…" Durani stopped his pacing as he remembered what had happened. "The four soldiers did something to make my father angry, but I don't know what it was. My father was a violent man, and he threatened to kill the soldiers, but Biryukov promised his daughter to me if they could leave, and, after putting the marriage contract in writing, my father agreed to let them go. When I saw the man in Hannah's photograph, and realized she was his daughter, it was like fate had brought her back to me again."

Booth let out a low whistle. "Yeah, I can just imagine how well Hannah took the news when you told her that her father had arranged her marriage to you. I'm pretty sure she laughed in your face, right?"

"I wanted to marry her, just like our fathers had arranged, but she wouldn't honor that promise because of her attachment to you, Booth. It was all your fault. You ruined my hopes for happiness with her..."

Booth shrugged slightly and rolled his eyes, pretending to be bored. "Okay, so you're pissed at me because of Hannah. Let Dr. Brennan go, and let Chernikov take his kid home, and you and me can work this out on our own, Ahmed…man to man...unless you're afraid..." Booth glanced at Brennan and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the stricken look on her face. He shifted his gaze to the frightened boy and then back to her, and she nodded sadly. The boy's safety needed to take priority over his own. As Booth shifted in his seat, Durani pointed his pistol at him.

"No...the child stays here with me." Ahmed turned and grinned wickedly at the boy. "I paid for him to be born, and he's mine. Now I have explained to you his purpose, and you see it was a good plan, allowing me to permanently injure the two people I hated most in the world. But then there was an unexpected problem...you noticed my voice?" Durani coughed as he tried to speak. "I had to go back to Afghanistan...my mother was dying. Hannah couldn't go with me...she was still working, and due to have the child soon so she couldn't travel overseas. After my mother's death, I tried to disperse her property but because people in my village knew I had been an interpreter with the US Army, I was detained by a faction of the Taliban...and they tortured me, thinking I knew information about the American plans for the region. When that didn't work, they tried to get ransom money for me. The men who held me captive damaged my larynx and trachea...they pretended to strangle me several times over many months, trying to get me to tell them things." Durani coughed again. "I was in their custody for almost six years until finally I was able to escape from them. I worked my way back to the States so I could see my beautiful woman." Durani gave Booth and Chernikov rabid glare as he spit out his next words. "I found Hannah again, but it seemed like she had forgotten all about me. She didn't want me any more! She told me to go away and leave her alone!"

 _Ahmed's really angry, thinking about Hannah leaving him._ Booth watched as Durani's fist clenched tighter around the pistol grip. _Maybe it's time to up the ante._ "She never wanted you to begin with, Ahmed. She was just using you." Booth caught Chernikov's eye before he continued, hoping that the younger man would realize there was no personal insult intended. "That was pretty typical of Hannah. She could be a cold hearted bitch if she felt like it. I'm pretty sure she'd probably had seven or eight guys after you left, even if she told you she loved only you. She might've needed you if she was researching information about her father or if she needed money to bribe the doctor, but I promise you this, Ahmed...she never really cared for you."

"She did love me! She did!" Durani's voice grew more shrill and strident as Booth continued to provoke him. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Booth. She never loved you like she loved me! I was the man of her dreams! She told me so!"

"Yeah, right. Whatever, Ahmed. You're the one who's dreaming." Booth snickered as he turned to wink at Chernikov. "I know why Hannah didn't want this jerk, Pyotr. She told me that Ahmed was a lousy lover...couldn't last more than five minutes even if he ever did manage to get a hard on...as clumsy as an ox when he was on top of her…she often had to push him off of her because he usually fell asleep during sex. She said he had no idea how to even pleasure a woman...that's why she chose me over him." Booth and Chernikov both laughed as Durani's face turned red with anger. "So what...you just showed up one day, wanting back into her life and she didn't faint in excitement at seeing you? Get a clue...she didn't want you anymore. I bet that made you really angry, didn't it?" Booth's voice became a low, insistent growl. "That's why you murdered her and mutilated her body. That was the plan along, wasn't it? It wasn't just about her refusal to give up the child. You were angry because she rejected you, and so you killed her, just like you had originally planned, you filthy bastard..."

Ahmed continued his furious rant, tears flowing down his face as he wildly waved his pistol in the air. "I tried to explain to Hannah that we could still go through with our plan...we could take the child and sell him...probably get even more money for him since he was older, but you know what she said? That she didn't want to give up the child! That she loved the child, and that his parents loved him, and that she didn't want to hurt the child or you, Booth! After all the pain you caused her, Booth, and the goddamn bitch didn't want to hurt you! She said the child was too much like you, Booth, and she couldn't give him up. And then she ran...she tried to hide from me...but I found her here in DC at that house…I found her and I gave the fucking bitch what she deserved for not following my plan!"

Brennan gasped as Durani turned and grabbed Seejay by the back of his shirt, pulling him out of his chair by his collar and turned to Chernikov. "And now, I have your child, Pyotr...and I can use him to pay your family back for destroying my family all those years ago. The Soviets would never have known where we were, if not for your father…" Leveling the pistol at the boy's head, he grinned wickedly at the men. "I'll just shoot him between the eyes, and pay both of you back…."

Suddenly there was angry shouting and gunfire heard from one side of the darkened perimeter of the room. Distracted by the commotion, Durani let go of Seejay's shirt as he turned toward the noise, and the boy dropped heavily to the ground.

"Run, Seejay! Run...find a place to hide! Remember what I told you!", Brennan yelled. Without hesitating, the little boy quickly ran away from the brightly lit circle and disappeared into the darkness behind her as a man came moving quickly toward them them.

"Durani! You goddamn camel's ass! Are you really such a miserable excuse for a man? I should've known what a stupid son of a bitch you are! Your mind is as crippled as your body.", Sergei Tyomkin roared as he came striding out of the shadows, quickly moving toward the perimeter of the brightly lit area. "You've got the wrong man, as usual. No wonder you couldn't keep a good woman by your side. Such an idiot you are..."

Durani turned his pistol toward Tyomkin. "What are you talking about, you old fool? Hannah's letter from her father said it was Chernikov's father that told the Russians about my father's business. It was a legitimate business, and the Russians blew my father and everyone in his house to Hell…" Durani wiped more tears off his face as he remembered what happened. "There was so much blood.", he whispered hoarsely. "So much blood...blood everywhere...on my face...in my eyes...on my clothes...body parts were all over the ground...everything my father built over the years, and it was gone in five minutes…my father and two of his wives...all my brothers and sisters...all gone. There was almost nothing left...just little pieces of what used to be people. I couldn't even identify them. Their bodies all had to go in one mass grave, without a funeral..."

"It wasn't Chernikov, you babbling moron! It was me who told the high command about your father's black market operation, you stupid bastard! I couldn't wait to get rid of your father...he was a filthy, nasty son of a bitch, just like you!" Tyomkin stood with his hands on his hips, holding a pistol in his right hand, and continued in a sarcastic tone of voice. "You aren't even Mohammed Durani's son, you know that? You really are a fucking bastard! You were an orphan...the son of the village whore, who had no idea who your father actually was. The man you called your father felt sorry for you and took you into his home as an act of charity, but he meant for you to be a servant in his house, not his son. Everything that you've done...all the people you've killed...it was all based on a lie told to you by a blind old woman who wasn't even your mother! Yes, I told the commanders at my camp exactly where to find your father's house, and when the family would be home. It's just unfortunate that you weren't inside the house when it collapsed…"

"Tyomkin...it was you, wasn't it?" A strangled cry rose from Durani's throat. "It really was you...you're the man who was responsible for killing my family! It was you who ruined my life forever!" Without warning, Ahmed fired two shots at Tyomkin, striking the older man squarely on the left side of his chest. Durani then turned to fire the pistol at Booth but the report of a high powered rifle echoed throughout the building, and Durani fell over backwards, crashing over an empty chair, dead from a single bullet to the center of his forehead as his body lay splayed out over the floor in a rapidly spreading pool of blood.

Booth and Brennan quickly rushed over to Tyomkin, who was lying on the floor in a pool of blood as Pyotr Chernikov knelt next to him, whispering softly, trying to find a way to keep his friend from bleeding so heavily.

"Oh, my God! Sergei Andreyevich, what were you thinking? You know it was my father who gave up Alexei Polzin and Durani's father to the Soviets so he could save his own skin...my father was the coward…not you. Why did you do this thing? Why didn't you use your gun?"

Tyomkin coughed as he struggled to breathe. "How did you find out... about your father? It was supposed to be... a secret. All this time...I tried to...keep you from...finding out."

"He confessed it all to me in a letter I received three months ago. He was dying from cancer, and he wanted to unburden his soul. He asked me not to tell you because he didn't want to upset you...rest, Sergei. Don't try to talk. I'm sure an ambulance is on its way…"

"Pyotr…" Tyomkin wheezed as the blood from his wounds gurgled in his chest. "I've lived on borrowed time...for over thirty years. I should've died...the night we broke into the infirmary...I should've gone back for Polzin...I was much more...of a coward than your father. I just wanted to disappear…so I could...escape justice..." Blood was trickling from Tyomkin's mouth. "I wanted to keep you safe...you and Vasily. I have served...my purpose, and now...now I can rest in peace…" His breathing became more shallow and more rapid as his pupils began to dilate. "Promise me, please...raise Vasily to be an honest man…like you…and like Director Booth...like both of his fathers. Pray for me, Pyotr...pray for my soul...pray that I've done enough penance...so I don't burn in hell. Please pray for me..." His voice faded as his breathing slowed.

"Of course, I'll pray for you, Sergei, of course...hang on, Sergei...hang on. The paramedics will be here soon. Sergei? Sergei!" Pyotr Chernikov sat next to his friend, sobbing quietly as he realized that Tyomkin had died from his wounds.

Aubrey walked over to make sure Ahmed Durani was dead, bending over to pick up the man's pistol as other agents and forensic technicians began to fill the large room. He turned back to Booth and Brennan, his face twisted with regret. "I wish we could've stopped Durani from shooting Tyomkin, but it all happened so quickly. We tried to think of every contingency, but we had no way of knowing that Tyomkin would just show up out of nowhere to confront Durani. He must've gotten into the building before we got here. He was probably hiding somewhere, just waiting for the right time to make his move." Aubrey sighed as he looked over at one of the darkened corners of the building. "The sniper made a helluva shot to take out Durani, didn't she? Are you guys okay? Where's the boy?"

"Oh...I have to use the secret word." After asking the crime lab technicians to cover the bodies, Brennan walked to the dark area behind the chairs. "Seejay? It's me, Temperance. You remember our secret word, right? Sasha...your puppy's name is Sasha, right, Seejay?"

A small voice was heard coming through the darkness. "Papa? Temperance?" The little boy cautiously emerged from the shadows and then ran into his father's arms. "Papa! I'm so happy to see you! Can we go home now? I want to go see Mama and Sasha! I've missed them so much…"

Chernikov looked up at Booth, who smiled and nodded. "Of course we can go see Mama and Sasha. They've missed you, too." He picked up his son and hugged him close. "Let's go home, Vasily."

Reaching to put his arms around his wife, Booth sighed with relief. "God, am I ever glad to see you, Bones! Aubrey can finish up here. C'mon, let's go home."

oooooooooo

 _Thanks for reading. If you have time to leave a review, I'd appreciate it. FYI...there are still a few chapters left in this story. I'll post them soon. Laura_


	16. Chapter 16 What Really Matters

_A/N: Dyadya is the Russian word for uncle. Thanks for reading. If you have time to leave a review, I'd appreciate it._

Drawing a deep sigh, Deputy Director Booth stood in the _breakroom_ down the hall from his office, absentmindedly stirring some sugar into his tepid coffee. He brought the cup to his lips, grimacing slightly at the bitter taste of the day old brew before turning to go to Aubrey's office. Walking slowly down the hall, he greeted agents as he went, trying to put a thin veneer of pleasantness over his total exhaustion. _What a week….it feels like I've worked three weeks straight with no break…I'm beat...God, my ass is dragging..._

He finally reached the door of Aubrey's office, clearing his throat as he leaned against the door frame. "Hey, Aubrey...how's it going this morning? Got anything new on the Durani case? I'm anxious to get that situation wrapped up so we can send the reports over to the Justice Department."

"Hey, Booth, come on in. Damn, you look tired. You must've been working too hard lately." Aubrey smirked as he turned to the file cabinets behind his desk and pulled out the pertinent folders.

"Yeah, thanks a helluva lot, Aubrey. Good to see you, too.", Booth groused as he sipped his coffee. He walked over to look out of the office window, shaking his head. "Things have been awful over the last few days, you know? I'm really looking forward to things getting back to normal around here, and I bet you are, too, right? Maybe now you'll finally be able to enjoy your promotion. I know you're getting tired of hearing from Stark about what a pain in the ass I am, especially since the guy uses you as his errand boy to scold me instead of being man enough to face me himself. You know what he says: that as a Deputy Director, I'm supposed to stay out of field work, so as you can imagine, Director Stark isn't too happy that I went after Bones in person the other night. 'You're a director, Booth. You're not a field agent anymore,' he says. 'You're supposed to delegate authority and send field agents instead.', he says." Turning to face Aubrey, Booth rolled his eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. "Yeah, right...like that was ever gonna happen! Send some half-assed flunky to save my wife from a deranged killer? I don't think so! I'm not gonna trust anyone to rescue my wife but me, you know?" Booth grimaced slightly with regret as he saw Aubrey's slight scowl. "Hey, I don't think you're a half-assed flunky, alright? I trust you, and I know you always have my back. I know how much you helped me that night, Aubrey...you probably saved my life, and believe me, I really appreciate it. But the truth is, I wasn't gonna let you go find Bones without me going with you, and that's just the way that is. Anyway, Stark just chewed my ass royally...not that I give a flying fuck what that jackass thinks, but now I'm grounded, you know? I gotta hang around the office and be a good boy for a few weeks until I can prove to him that I know how a Deputy Director is supposed to behave." Booth grinned as he winked at Aubrey. "You believe that's gonna happen, too, right? I'm gonna behave like a goddamn saint for at least a couple of days."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. You're all set to be St. Seeley, right?", Aubrey said sarcastically. "You know, Booth, Stark's probably just annoyed because you and your over developed work ethic kinda set a whole new standard for what a director's supposed to do when they work on a case. Maybe you're gonna make it to where all of them have to do some field work now instead of just sitting behind a desk running the show. That oughta piss'em off good, right?" The friends both chuckled at the thought of the slightly out of shape Director Stark trying to run after an escaping felon.

Aubrey leaned back in his desk chair as he gestured for Booth to sit down. Opening a thick file folder, he leafed through the papers in it. "Let's see what we have here. Well, Mrs. Jordan, the housekeeper, was originally from Moscow. She used to be an actress in Russia, but she fell on some hard times, it seems. She married an American citizen about ten years ago. It looks like it was one of those deals where a guy arranges for a Russian bride. She worked for Hannah for about nine months. It seems that Hannah found her through an employment agency. There's nothing that shows us that Hannah and Mrs. Jordan knew each other before then. I think Ahmed Durani probably bribed Mrs. Jordan to help him get into Hannah's house somehow, but we don't know that for sure." Aubrey handed Booth some papers from the file. "The gun that was used to kill Mrs. Jordan was the same one that Durani used to shoot both Mikhail Polzin and Sergei Tyomkin."

"Yeah, I can see that bribery thing happening with Durani. He could be charming if he felt like it, and he probably had some cash available after liquidating his mother's estate. I suppose it's even possible that Mrs. Jordan tampered with the alarm so Durani could get into Hannah's house easily." Looking through the papers, Booth nodded. "Yeah, it looks like he was trying to clean up his loose ends. What about Senator Camden? How did he fit into this whole mess?"

"Senator Camden had been a valued customer of Mikhail Polzin for quite a while, it seems, usually buying the services of underage female prostitutes. I guess Polzin was a blabbermouth, which seems like it would be bad for his business, but anyway…" Aubrey arched his eyebrow and shrugged as he continued. "It seems that Polzin knew that Durani had been looking for Hannah in the DC area, and he figured Durani would pay big money to find out her location. I imagine the senator made arrangements with Polzin to have some girls sent over, and he probably mentioned that he didn't want them sent to the Hickory Lane house because of the woman and child that were staying there. Polzin probably got curious...maybe he thought Camden had a kept woman and he was going to try to use the information to blackmail him, so he watched the house for awhile, but when he saw it was Hannah…"

"That was how Durani found out where Hannah was." Booth's mouth was set in a grim line. "God...she never had a chance. He'd planned to murder her from the beginning, and then he had to murder Polzin to avoid paying him for the information on where she was."

"Yeah...I think so, Booth. Durani used the Senator to get close to Hannah...probably threatened to expose Camden's chronic pedophilia if the senator didn't assist him with his plans, but once he didn't need the senator any more…" Aubrey made a gesture like he was slitting his throat. "The senator became another loose end to be tidied up."

"Was it Polzin or Durani that strangled the senator and then staged it to look like suicide?" Booth closed the folder and laid on the desk before he leaned back in his chair. "Did the lab figure that out?"

Pulling out a sheet from the file, Aubrey showed the lab report to Booth. "They said it was Polzin. They measured the span of his hands when his body was brought into the lab, and they matched the hands to the bruises on the senator's neck. And Polzin probably tried to run down Dr. B because Durani hired him to do it..."

"Durani wanted to make all of us suffer...all the people that he thought had injured him…" Booth exhaled slowly as he shook his head. "It's incredible. His whole plan for using the boy to hurt me and Pyotr Chernikov was just insane. It was so convoluted…"

"Yeah, it was crazy." Aubrey nodded as he took another sheet from the folder. "We were able to get a warrant to look at the records from the fertility clinic. It's been difficult trying to decipher everything because the clients are listed as numbers instead of names, but we got a court order requiring them to give us more information. Hannah did have an embryo implanted at the clinic about 10 weeks after you two broke up. The records indicate that she was a surrogate for the Chernikovs, and that they supposedly used Pyotr's semen to fertilize Irina's egg, even though we know now what really happened...that the doctor used one of your samples instead." Aubrey blushed a little bit as he continued. He knew how Booth would feel about his next statement. "Unfortunately, there's no way to find out what really happened...if Hannah bribed Dr. Apalkova to use your semen or if Durani bribed the doctor or threatened her if she didn't do what he wanted with your donation. It's possible Durani even threatened Hannah if she didn't go along with what he wanted her to do. I guess we'll never know. All we have to go on is what he told you the other night, and he was hardly a reliable source of information. As far as I can tell, it really was a car accident that killed the fertility clinic doctor. Based on the accident report filed by the police there was no evidence of foul play there."

"Yeah, well...you're right. We're probably never know for sure who instigated that deal at the clinic...not that it makes any difference, I guess. The outcome's still the same, isn't it?" Booth tapped the cover of the file folder. "Any ideas about why Hannah's New York apartment was searched? Was that Durani or Polzin?"

Aubrey looked through the paperwork that the New York City field office had sent to him. "They didn't find any prints in the apartment, but I'd say it was probably Durani. He was probably looking for some of Hannah's personal papers, like Vasily's birth certificate, and maybe her passport, but she had all of them locked up in Chernikov's safety deposit box. I guess we'll never really know for sure just what Durani was looking for. It's also possible that he wasn't looking for anything in particular. Maybe he was just trying to frighten her." Aubrey glanced at Booth, trying to gauge his mood before he continued. "You know you were listed on an amended New York birth certificate as Vasily's father, right? Hannah made sure the original birth certificate listed Pyotr Chernikov as father. I imagine she had the certificate amended later so she could convince you that you were the boy's father instead of Chernikov. It seems that at least that part of Durani's crazy story was true.."

"Jesus…" Booth dragged his hands over his eyes and sighed softly. "Bones suggested that we do a DNA test on Vasily to prove without a doubt that he's my son, but I don't know what good that will do. I already know I'm the boy's biological father. I don't see any reason to upset the Chernikovs any further, I guess."

"Yeah...it seems like they've been through enough already.", Aubrey agreed. "I mean, you're not gonna try to get custody…"

"Oh, no...nothing like that. There's no need..." Booth shook off the idea and decided to change the subject. "Hey, those two agents of yours...Lopez and McAnally? They're really impressive. Both of them are really smart and very good investigators. They're a great team. I guess if you ever do decide to leave us for greener pastures, we won't have to go far to find your replacement. I imagine both of them will end up being Special Agents in Charge of some division, and maybe even deputy directors someday."

"Both of them are very good agents, and they work well together as partners, too." Aubrey paused as he turned to put the file folder away. "McAnally's planning on taking a couple of months off after her baby is born, but I think after her maternity leave she's gonna be back with the Bureau for the long haul. Her husband is Lopez's brother Tomas. Tomas works for the IRS." Seeing Booth's confusion, Aubrey explained. "McAnally started working with Mateo Lopez about a year ago, and when he introduced Cindy to his brother, I guess it was love at first sight for both of them. Cindy says it was fate that she got assigned to work with Mateo. Sounds silly, doesn't it?" Aubrey grinned at the director's eyeroll. "Anyway, sometimes Cindy and Mateo argue like siblings, but they always seem to work things out, and they never let their arguments affect the way they work their cases."

Booth laughed as he stood to leave. "McAnally said it was fate, huh? Yeah, I can see that. And, believe me, if anyone knows about arguing with their partner…" He grinned as he pointed his thumb at his chest. "But, you're right. Who cares how much they argue as long as they close their cases successfully, right?"

"Hey, Booth...can I ask you a question about FBI policy before you leave?" Aubrey looked at the loose papers on his desk, trying to avoid eye contact with the Deputy Director.

"I guess so...what's up? Nothing's wrong, I hope..." Booth's concern was evident as he turned back toward Aubrey.

"It's about Jessica...you know? My girlfriend? Yeah, of course you know she's my girlfriend." Aubrey fidgeted with a paper clip as he hesitated a bit before continuing. "She thinks she wants to work for the FBI forensics division." Aubrey cleared his throat as he straightened up his files. "That doesn't go against FBI policy, does it? For a husband and wife to work in separate parts of the Bureau? Even though they may have to work together on cases from time to time?"

"I don't think so...the Bureau kinda changed the rules because of the way me and Bones work together…" A grin began to spread across Booth's face. "Hey, wait...did you pop the question, Aubrey? You sly devil! Hey, that's wonderful! Congratulations! When's the big day?"

Aubrey chuckled happily as he leaned back in his chair. "Yep...I asked her last night, and believe it or not, she said yes. We haven't set a date yet, but it won't be for at least six months. Jess wants to complete her dissertation and get her degree before she begins planning a wedding."

Booth smirked at Aubrey as he raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you didn't want Jessica to work at the FBI with you…" He snickered as he watched the younger man squirm. _She's already got him whipped…_

"Well, it seems that Jessica has learned more than forensics from Dr. B, Booth. She used logic to get what she wanted from me. Well, logic and maybe a little bit of sex. Anyway...there are several branches of forensics in the FBI, so, for example, Jess could work for RICO or the Crimes Against Children unit. I've already spoken to Rachel Silas about having more forensic help in her unit, and Silas thought it'd be a good idea."

"Okay, sure. Whatever you say." Booth gave Aubrey a knowing smile. He knew it wouldn't be long before Jessica was working on the forensics for the Major Crimes unit with Aubrey if that was what she wanted. He was also sure Jessica had learned many other things from Bones that were yet to be revealed to the unsuspecting Special Agent in Charge of Major Crimes. "Well, that's great news, Aubrey." After checking his phone as it chimed, Booth grinned as he shook Aubrey's hand. "Hey, I gotta go. I've got an appointment. I'll see you later…" Laughing to himself, Booth happily walked back to his office.

Oooooooooo

"Director Booth?" Agent Brooks cleared his throat. "You have a visitor, sir. A Mr. Chernikov?"

"Okay, thanks, Brooks. Show him in." Booth stood to greet his visitor. "Mr. Chernikov...how are you and your family doing? Please sit down. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Some water would be nice, thank you. We are doing as well as can be expected, given the horrible circumstances of the last week. Irina has had a hard time letting Vasily out of her sight now that he's home." Chernikov sighed quietly as he took the bottle of water and sat down. "I think after this much trauma they will both need to go through some intense counseling if our family is ever to be normal again. Poor Vasily...he was exposed to so much more than what is good for a child his age…and he is so upset about the death of his Dyadya Sergei Andreyevich."

"I know. I really regret that I had to be so blunt about the relationship between Hannah and Durani while your son was listening, but it really couldn't be avoided...and all the bad language...I'm so sorry." Booth grimaced slightly. "Physically, however, Vasily is okay, right?"

"Yes, thankfully, he is, for the most part, uninjured. Just some bumps and scrapes. I am more worried about his mind. He had a bad nightmare last night…" Mr. Chernikov sat back in his chair, pressing his fingertips together. "He was very frightened when he finally woke up, as was his mother…"

Booth nodded, genuinely concerned. "I've have many nightmares, too...about my experiences in battle and some of my cases from work. They can be terrifying, but after awhile, they become less bothersome. For a child, I think counseling would be very helpful. I've found that having a someone to talk to can be very effective."

"I know that's true. We're going to look into it soon. Right now we're just trying to get back to our normal family routine." Chernikov studied Booth closely, and then spoke deliberately. "I came to see you for two reasons today, Director Booth. The first is to deliver this letter to you." He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and laid it on the desk. "I found this in Snezhana's personal papers...things that she kept in our family's safety deposit box." Pushing the envelope towards Booth, Chernikov smiled faintly. "I know you two were intimate before you married Dr. Brennan. Perhaps you should read this letter in private…"

"Perhaps you're right." Booth grimaced, slightly embarrassed, as he put the letter in the top drawer of his desk. "What else can I do for you, sir? Have you started the work on replacing your warehouses?"

"Our insurance company is already working on a settlement for us. We lost a lot of merchandise, but eventually we will be compensated for it, and fortunately no one was injured in fighting the fire." Chernikov took a sip of water and swallowed it slowly before continuing. "About what Tyomkin said as he was dying…" Brushing a tear away, Chernikov paused to calm himself. "I want you to know…"

Booth sighed softly and grimaced with regret. "I'm so sorry we couldn't prevent his death. He was a wild card, you know? We had no reason to believe that he'd come to that building to challenge Ahmed. The plans Agent Aubrey and I made were focused on rescuing the hostages and taking out the target. Mr. Tyomkin's actions were truly heroic...and his death was such a tragedy."

"Please believe me when I tell you that I understand that Sergei's actions couldn't be anticipated, and that, of course, I do not hold the FBI accountable for his death. It seems he made a conscious choice to put himself in extreme danger as a way to distract Durani, and his plan was effective, it seems, but unfortunately…the outcome was very bad." Chernikov gave Booth a weak smile. "Sergei Andreyevich was far from perfect, and he could be quite unpredictable, Director Booth, but he was loyal to a fault. I didn't tell him where I was going that night, but now I realize he must've followed me." Chernikov sighed as he studied the top of Booth's desk. "I should've realized he would never let me face Durani without him being there beside me. It was no surprise that he was willing to sacrifice his life for me or for Vasily. In many ways, Tyomkin was more like a father to me than my own father was."

"I can see that." Booth nodded and smiled slightly at Chernikov. "He was very protective of you and your family, and he did what he felt he needed to do to keep you and your son safe, even if it meant giving up his own life. He obviously cared deeply for you."

"I think in that way, you must be like him, sir." Hesitating slightly, Chernikov bit his lip as he tried to control his emotions. "I believe you also would've done whatever was necessary to keep us safe. As I listened to you talk to Durani that night...trying to incite him to anger so he'd lose control...asking him to let my child and me leave and being willing to face the man by yourself, even in the face of his insanity..." Chernikov brushed a tear from his eye. "I believe you would've sacrificed yourself...your own life... for the life of my child, and I find myself humbled by that knowledge. I thank you, sir."

Booth shrugged, slightly uncomfortable with Pyotr's praise. "That's part of my job, Mr. Chernikov. I'm a federal law enforcement agent, and before that, I was a US Army Ranger. I go to work every day knowing that there are times when I might have to put myself in the line of fire to save the lives of other people."

"But it's more than that, I think." Chernikov finally looked Booth in the eye and smiled. "I believe...I know that there is more than an excellent chance that you are Vasily's biological father. I'm not exactly how that happened, other than Durani's wild explanation, but I feel certain it's true, although I haven't discussed my suspicions with my wife. Irina's emotional state is delicate, and I see no real reason to upset her anymore than she already is."

"Believe me, Mr. Chernikov, I understand that completely, and you can rest assured that I don't want to cause any problems for your family. I know that this situation is awkward for you as well. I know it was a shock to you, too, with you thinking that you were Vasily's father, only to find out..."

Chernikov held up his hand to interrupt Booth. "When we were at that building the other night, I could see it so clearly. When I watched the you and the child together...it's not just what you look like, even though that's part of it, but there's more evidence than that. Your mannerisms are the same...even the way you speak is similar, and that can't be a mere coincidence." Avoiding eye contact with Booth again, the man continued softly. "Do you wish to sue us for visitation rights or for custody of our only child, Director Booth?"

Booth shook his head and smiled. "Of course not. In every way that truly matters, you are Vasily's dad. I know you and your wife love him, and that he's cherished and well cared for. It would be unconscionable for me to tear up your family like that."

"We do love him very much. I think it isn't an exaggeration to say that Vasily is our reason for living, and I am very grateful that you've made that possible for us, no matter how it happened." Chernikov glanced at the screen saver photographs gliding across Booth's computer monitor. "You have other children, Director Booth?"

Booth nodded as he produced his phone and showed Chernikov a family picture that had been taken at Christmas. "Parker, Christine, and Hank. Believe me...they're my reason for living, too…"

Chernikov smiled as he handed Booth's phone back to him. "They are beautiful children. You are a very blessed man to have such a fine family." The younger man cleared his throat and inhaled deeply. "Please allow me to explain the second reason for my visit today, Director Booth. When Tyomkin was dying, he begged me to raise Vasily to be strong, brave, and honest, like both of his fathers. I know how much Tyomkin respected you, so I promise this to you, Director Booth. I will raise our son to be an honest man, and the family business I pass on to him will be completely legal. He will never be involved with anything illegal if I can help it." Chernikov cleared his throat as he tried to keep from crying. "I believe our child will grow to be a fine man, and that he's destined to do great things."

Sighing deeply, Booth smiled at the man sitting across from him. "I appreciate that, Mr. Chernikov. I would like to ask one favor in regards to Vasily, if I may." Chernikov nodded for Booth to continue. "If you have time, and if you feel that it's appropriate...if you could let me know about some of the milestones in Vasily's life, I'd like that very much. Important birthdays, graduations...things like that, you know? Maybe I can send him a card, if you don't care. I promise not to intrude on your special family moments, and I won't interfere in your lives in any way. I'm not sure that he understood everything he heard us talking about the other night, but, as far as I'm concerned, there's no reason for Vasily to know anything more about my part in his birth right now...about me being his biological father. Maybe when he's older...I'll let you decide how to handle that, and, when he's of age, if he wants to talk to me, I'll be here. Otherwise..." Booth shrugged, unsure of how to continue.

"Of course we will keep in touch with you to let you know about what is happening in Vasily's life." Chernikov brushed tears away from his cheek. "Thank you, sir, for being so considerate of my family's feelings. Again, you are sacrificing yourself for my child, and I am deeply indebted to you, Director Booth. Now, if you'll excuse me...I must go by the church to finalize the funeral arrangements for Sergei Andreyevich. His funeral will be next Monday at ten o'clock in the morning at the Russian Orthodox Cathedral of St. John the Baptist here in Washington. We would be honored if you and your wife would attend..."

"The honor would be ours, Mr. Chernikov. You can count on us being there."

Pyotr Chernikov stood to leave. "Oh...before I forget, there is one other thing. Vasily told my wife and me about how your wife took care of him while they were being held captive together. She kept him calm, and helped to keep his mind off of the bad situation they were in. I know that in your position as a deputy director you cannot accept gifts from people like me, although I considered bringing you a bottle of vodka from my grandfather's company…" Both men chuckled at the joke. "I'm sure my grandfather would appreciate the irony of that. Anyway, my wife and I are contributing ten thousand dollars to the Wounded Warrior Foundation in the name of you and your wife to show our appreciation for both of you and in gratitude for what you have done for our family."

"I don't know what to say. That's not necessary…", Booth stammered.

"Yes, it is necessary, and as for what to say...why say anything? Goodbye, Director Booth."

Booth reached out to shake Chernikov's hand. "Thank you. Goodbye, Mr. Chernikov. I'll see you Monday."

After calling Agent Brooks over to show Mr. Chernikov to the elevator, Booth returned to his office and sat at his computer looking through files, trying not to think about the letter sitting in the top drawer of his desk. He didn't really want to read it, because, as irrational as it was, he felt like it would be cheating on his wife if he read a letter from a former lover. _What if it's about how we had sex in my office, or that time we went to Atlantic City and had sex under the boardwalk?_ He knew that Bones probably knew all about those things, and being her normal rational self, she probably wouldn't care, but having those events in writing...it was almost more than he could bear. Still...he was curious about what Hannah might've put in a letter to him. He looked at the envelope once again. There it was in her neat, feminine script:

 _To Seeley Booth, to be opened in the event of my death._

 _Hannah Burley_


	17. Chapter 17 Peace and Quiet

_A/N: just a reminder...this story is AU, so the Bones version of reality has been slightly bent for the sake of the story._

Telling Brooks that he didn't want to be disturbed, Booth returned to his office, and after closing the blinds, he sat down at his desk. He stared at the sealed envelope for a minute or two, turning it over in his hands, trying to decide what to do. _I'm not really sure I want to read this letter. Maybe I should just shred it._ He pursed his lips as he ran his fingers across the inscription in front of the envelope. _But what am so I afraid of? Do I really think there's something terrible in this letter? Hannah's gone now. There's nothing she can say that can hurt me any more. I have a wonderful life now…nothing in this letter can change that, right?_ After thinking it over for a few minutes, Booth took a deep breath, and after removing the letter from the envelope Hannah had addressed to him, he began to read silently.

 _May 22, 2013_

 _Dear Seeley,_

 _If you're reading this letter, then you know that I've died. My job isn't as dangerous as yours, of course, but with all the travel to scary places all over the world, I decided that I needed to leave this letter for you just in case I don't get to tell you in person the things you need to know._

Booth paused as he glanced at the letter's date. It had been written on Hannah's birthday, which was right around the time he and Bones had gotten married. He wondered if that was what triggered Hannah to write this letter…

 _I'm sorry I hurt you so badly when you proposed to me. You may not realize it, but I loved you very much, and you almost turned me into the marrying kind. I was so tempted to call you the next morning to tell you I had changed my mind...that I had made a mistake in rejecting your proposal, but I finally decided against it, and honestly, I think that was the correct choice. Looking back on it now, I guess I always knew things wouldn't work out between us, and that we'd end up angry and disappointed with each other if we stayed together. As I spent more and more time with you, I came to realize that you were never truly mine to keep...that I was just borrowing you from Temperance for awhile. I could tell that you were still deeply in love with Temperance even while we were together, and I knew you'd regret our marriage for the rest of your life if our wedding ever happened. I know you would've given me your best efforts...you'd try to find a way to make a marriage work between us, because that's what kind of man you are...you honor your commitments, no matter how painful or costly they may be. But the truth of the matter is that Temperance was always going to be first in your life, no matter what was going on between you and me, and I didn't think it was right for any of us to be subjected to that sort of pain and anguish. She loves you deeply…more sincerely and selflessly than I ever could. She was willing to give you up to me if it would make you happy. I could never truly understand that kind of sacrifice...I'm too self serving...but it was amazing to see how pure her love for you is...and you deserve it. You're a very lucky man, Seeley._

Booth had to stop to wipe the tears from his eyes before he could continue. Of course, he knew how lucky he was to have Bones as his wife, but seeing it acknowledged in this letter...written there in black and white...by the woman who might've been his fiancee...it was an amazing feeling. He'd long ago made his peace with Hannah about the end of their relationship, even though he hadn't seen her since she'd left him standing alone, completely devastated, at the Reflecting Pool that night. He'd been so angry with her on their last night as a couple, but after a few years had passed he realized that Hannah had actually done him a favor. She was the one who'd called Bones, telling her that she could find him at the Founding Fathers...so that he and Bones could begin to repair what had been broken between them and go forward together from there. In her own way, Hannah had sacrificed a great deal for him, and he was grateful for that. Nodding in understanding, he turned back to her letter.

 _Now I have a confession to make. I did a very stupid, very selfish thing that will affect you personally for many years, and I'm so sorry about that. There is no excuse for what I did, except for poor judgment on my part. It's a long story which starts while we were still living together._

 _I was at the apartment one morning when the fertility clinic called and left a message on your answering machine with some question concerning your semen donation. I was very curious about the phone call, because I couldn't imagine why you had donated semen at a fertility clinic. I also couldn't figure out why you'd kept it a secret from me, but there never seemed to be a good time for me to bring it up so we could talk about it. It bothered me for a few days, until one evening when I saw how you looked at Temperance as she left the Founding Fathers with Angela and Dr. Hodgins. The longing in your eyes was palpable, and I knew...call it a reporter's intuition, but somehow I knew you had donated semen for her so she could have your child. I was so jealous of her after that! I had to pretend to be her friend, because she was your 'friend' and your 'partner', but I was so angry at her! She had received something from you that I knew I'd never have. She had your undying love. Eventually I began to avoid Temperance because I was so jealous...and again, I could see that she was always going to be first in your life. I'd never be able to have you completely to myself. I would always be your second choice._

So Hannah had known about his donation, and was very jealous of Bones because of it. He'd been fairly certain she'd been jealous of his partnership with Bones, no matter how many times he'd tried to convince Hannah that there was nothing between them but a work relationship. Finding out about the semen donation had just added fuel to that fire, it seemed. Booth smiled to himself. No matter what he'd told Bones on that rainy night so many years ago, Hannah really would've been a consolation prize if things had worked out differently.

 _After we broke up, I became very depressed. I wasn't sure where I wanted to live, or what my next step should be in my life. I didn't know where I wanted to work. Everything seemed to be turned upside down. I missed you terribly. I knew we shouldn't get married, but I had hoped to we could still have a relationship together. Eventually I realized you wouldn't consider that..that it was all or nothing for you. I know we should've talked at the beginning of our relationship about what we both wanted out of our time together, but we never did actually talk much, right? We were too busy doing other things, weren't we?_

Booth sighed heavily as he gazed out his office window. Hannah had hit the nail on the head. They'd never talked about their future together because they were too busy living in the moment while they were in Afghanistan, and when they were back to the States, the most serious thing they had discussed, other than where to go for dinner, was Bones revealing her feelings for him, and even then there wasn't too much time spent on what that bit of news meant to their relationship. If they had actually talked about what each of them wanted from their relationship to begin with, maybe the situation would've been different. Maybe Hannah wouldn't have moved to the States to be with him, and maybe he would've entered into a romantic relationship with Bones sooner. Over the last few days he'd come to realize just how little he actually knew about this woman that he'd ask to marry him all those years ago, but it didn't do any good to dwell on that now. _You can't change the past._ It took him by surprise that Hannah had been so depressed after the breakup, especially since she was the one who had ended things between them. She was right about another thing, though...he'd wanted a permanent commitment with the woman he loved instead of just maintaining a casual relationship. Glancing down to the letter, he continued to read.

 _I knew I could never repair our relationship, but I was so sad to think that I would lose you forever, so I began to formulate a crazy plan. I decided that I would have your child, so I'd have a part of you in my life forever, but I wouldn't tell you...I'd raise the child alone. The main problem with my plan was how to care for the child and still be able to work. I had to have some way to support myself and the child, but I decided that problem could be worked out eventually. I actually went to the fertility clinic, claiming to be your wife, and asking to use the donated semen. Imagine my frustration when I was told that the donation wasn't yours to use as you wished. The donation actually belonged to Dr. Temperance Brennan!_

Booth had to laugh out loud...of course Bones would have listed herself as owner of his donation. That was just like her…she owned his heart as well as his stuff...

 _It was about this time I got a call from Ahmed Zubair Durani, who was living in Kabul at the time. I'm sure you remember him…he was the Afghani interpreter for your unit. He said he hadn't seen me on the television news lately, and he wondered if I was alright. Since I was still depressed about our breakup, I poured out my heart to him...he was a shoulder to cry on, I guess. He said he still cared for me, so he flew to DC to see me. I didn't really think that much of it. I knew he'd had a crush on me when you and I were together in Afghanistan, but I guess it was more than that to him. Anyway, I was glad to see him. I needed a friend...and he said he could help me..._

Booth shook his head as he read that part of the letter again...Hannah had wanted to have his child? He never would've guessed that, especially since she traveled so much for work. He turned to the next page of the letter, unable to imagine how Durani had convinced Hannah that his crazy plan would work...

 _I'd already told Pyotr and Irina that I'd be a surrogate mother for them since Irina hadn't been able to carry a child to term. I thought it would make me feel like I had a purpose in life...that it might help me cope with my depression. I recommended that Irina use the same fertility clinic where your donation for Temperance was stored. It took very little convincing on my part, especially since the doctor in charge of the clinic was a Russian woman. Irina was easily persuaded, since her English is limited and the doctor was fluent in Russian. I went with Pyotr and Irina to the clinic make the arrangements, and even though I could tell Dr. Apalkova recognized me from my failed attempt to use your donation, things were set into motion for me to carry their child after the in vitro fertilization. Ahmed and I went back to the clinic a few days later, and he offered the doctor 25,000 dollars if she would use your semen donation instead of Pyotr's semen to fertilize Irina's egg, and, to my surprise, she readily agreed. I couldn't imagine why he would pay so much money to have that done, or where he even got the money, but it served my purpose well. I would have your baby, and Pyotr and Irina would raise the child as their own, so I could still work, but I would also be able to see the child regularly. It seemed like a perfect solution to my problem, so Irina's egg was fertilized with your semen, and implanted in me. The pregnancy was going well, and I was thrilled to be having your child, but then, at the end of the third month of my pregnancy, Ahmed told me the rest of his horrible plan._

 _Ahmed wanted to hurt you, Seeley, because he thought you had stolen me away from him. I tried to convince him that it hadn't happened that way, but he wouldn't listen to me. He wanted me to tell you that we had a child together but that you would never be able to see him, so you would be denied access to your child. Ahmed knew how much that would hurt you because he remembered how proud you were of Parker. He wanted to hurt Pyotr because of some old grudge he held against him. There had been a lot of trouble between their families in the past, I guess. I was to tell Pyotr that I had decided to keep their child, even though I had signed a contract stating differently. That way, both of you would be injured because of losing the child. At first I thought that I'd be able to keep the child...to raise it by myself somewhere in Europe, but, instead, Ahmed said he was going to sell the child to the human traffickers that supplied Thailand's sex trades...and I knew then that he was completely insane. He'd been driven mad by an obsessive lust for blood and revenge against you and Pyotr, and he told me that just killing you wasn't good enough...he wanted you to suffer the pain from losing the child instead. I tried to back out of the plan, but he threatened to kill me if I didn't follow his plan, and I believed him capable of murder, so I pretended to go along with him for awhile. After the baby was born in New York, I took him to live with Pyotr and Irina in DC, and I left the country, living in London for a few years. I know Ahmed had tried to find us, but he was detained by a faction of the Taliban in Afghanistan while taking care of his deceased mother's estate. I prayed that he would die there...I knew that if he returned to this country, we'd all be in danger. When he didn't show up after a few years, I assumed he really had died at the hands of the Taliban. I felt safe again, and I came back to the States. I split my time between New York City and DC so I can still work and then see our child on the weekends._

 _And so, Seeley, that's why you have a son you may not have met yet. He's a wonderful child...handsome like his father, with your courage and altruistic nature. I hope you'll get to meet him someday. I'm very proud of him, and I know you will be as well._

 _I'm not sorry that Vasily was born, but I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you because I made the choice to trust Ahmed. Please believe me when I say I regret everything I've ever done to hurt you._

 _Hannah_

Booth turned over the last page of the letter, and seeing it blank, he silently folded the pages and put it back in the envelope. It was still so unbelievable...a woman as smart as Hannah being duped by a man like Ahmed Durani into thinking his crazy plan would work. She had been right to be afraid of Durani…and now they were both dead...

Glancing at the time on his computer, he realized it was late in the day. He needed to go home and talk to Bones...to let her read the letter...to see what she thought about it. Booth had hoped that reading the letter would give him a sense of closure, but as it was, all he felt was sadness...sadness for all the needless loss of life that had occurred because Ahmed Durani was driven by an overwhelming thirst for revenge. Booth shut down his computer for the night, slipped his phone into his pants pocket and put the letter in the inner pocket of his jacket. Completely exhausted physically and emotionally, he sighed as turned off his office lights and left his office for the comfort of his home and his wife's loving arms.

Oooooooooo

Booth and Brennan sat on the sofa after dinner that evening, drinks in hand as they watched the flames burn low in the fireplace, grateful to be able to simply enjoy each other's company after a tumultuous week.

"It's nice to have some peace and quiet this evening, Bones, but I miss the kids. Did Max say when he thought they'd be home?" Booth put his arm around his wife and rubbed her sore shoulder.

"He thought it would be late tomorrow evening." Brennan chuckled as she remembered the conversation she'd had with her father earlier in the day. "He sounded quite tired. I think perhaps he's forgotten what it's like to travel with small children."

"Yeah, well, I imagine so. They went all the way to Minnesota, right? Even without kids, that's a long drive from here." Booth sipped his Scotch as he watched the fire. "I can't tell you how much I've appreciated your dad's help this past week. I'm so glad I didn't have to worry about the kids being here as a target for Durani. We need to do something really nice for Max...I mean besides paying for his trip expenses…"

"I agree. What would you suggest, Booth? My father seems to have everything he needs…I'd love to do something nice for him, but I don't have any ideas..."

"I don't know...maybe a really good bottle of single malt Scotch? He might need it after dealing with two small kids on a week long car trip." Booth chuckled softly as he stared into the bottom of his glass. "When I saw Pyotr Chernikov today he joked about bringing me a bottle of vodka from his grandfather's company. We had a good laugh about that…"

"Mr. Chernikov brought you Hannah's letter, right? Did he say how Vasily was doing?"

"I talked to Pyotr for quite a while when he brought me Hannah's letter this afternoon. He said that Vasily was alright physically, but they're worried about his emotional state. He's having nightmares, so they're gonna take him for counseling." Booth grimaced slightly as he ran his finger around the rim of his glass. "Pyotr was really worried when we talked, thinking that I'd want to take their son away from them or ask for visitation rights, but I told him they have nothing to worry about...that I didn't need to be involved in their lives like that."

"I think you've made the right choice, Booth, but I'm surprised you don't want to be more involved in Vasily's life." Brennan snuggled closer to him. "He is your son…"

"Well, yeah, biologically, he's mine, but not emotionally...not the way it counts...not the way Parker, Christine and Hank are mine. Vasily belongs to Irina and Pyotr. As harsh as it may sound, I don't think of him as really being my kid. I mean, he's carrying my genes, but he doesn't belong to me...to our family." Booth shook his head in exasperation. "It's hard for me to explain…"

"What you're saying is that you were just a sperm donor in this situation, and as such you probably feel very little emotional attachment to Vasily." Brennan twirled the stem of her wine glass between her fingers. "Not like the attachment Pyotr and Irina have, right? That's understandable. You haven't spent a lifetime with him like they have."

"They love their son very much, and I see no reason to tear up the kid's life any more than it already is, you know? He's had so much trauma over the last week or two, and I don't want to add to it by disrupting his family life to go with it. I know what it feels like when your family's torn apart, Bones, and I never want Vasily to have to deal with that." Booth brushed away a tear as he continued. "That poor kid doesn't need that kind of trouble on top of everything else that's happened to him in his short life. He's already lost two people he considered to be his family members in Hannah and Sergei Tyomkin. I can't stand the idea of causing more upheaval for him. He needs to feel loved and secure with the people he knows as his parents if he's ever get over being scared and nervous all the time. He needs to know they're the ones who are gonna be there for him, keeping him safe." Booth shrugged a shoulder as he continued. "I guess they're gonna keep me in the loop on school events and things like that, and when Vasily's old enough, if he wants to, we can meet. I've also decided that we don't need to do any DNA testing, or anything like that. Pyotr said he knows that I'm Vasily's biological father, but we all know I'm not really the boy's dad...Pyotr is. I'm satisfied that they're gonna raise the boy right...Pyotr promised that he would, and I believe him."

Brennan nodded as she listened to her husband's explanation. "If you're satisfied with your place in the child's life, Booth, then so am I. I think you've chosen wisely. Of course, Vasily will always be welcome in our home if he ever wants to visit you. You might want to explain the situation to Parker in the next few years, but we don't need to say anything about the situation to Christine and Hank until they're much older."

Putting his arm around his wife, Booth gave her a kiss. "Thanks, Bones. You're the best." He gave her knee a little squeeze, making her giggle. "By the way, Pyotr and Irina were really thankful for the way you took care of Seejay while you were held together. They're contributing ten thousand dollars to Wounded Warriors in your name."

"That's a wonderful gesture on their part, but I hope you told them that's not necessary, Booth..."

"I did tell Chernikov that, but he was insistent. If they want to make a donation to charity, we can't really stop them, you know? And it's a good organization...near and dear to my heart." Booth smiled at his wife. "You really were amazing, Bones...taking care of Vasily like you did. I'm so proud to be your husband…"

"I just did what anyone would do in that situation." Brennan took a sip of her wine and turned to face her husband, watching him closely as he sipped his Scotch. "You seem unusually pensive this evening, Booth. Are you still upset about that letter Hannah left for you?"

"Maybe a little. When I read her letter, it made me take a long look back to my past, and I didn't like what I saw. It's so obvious to me now that Hannah and I didn't belong together. I just wish I'd realized it sooner. A lot of this pain might've been avoided." Booth sighed quietly as he swirled what was left of the Scotch in his glass.

"I didn't really need to read the letter Hannah wrote to you, Booth. You know I trust you. I know that there were many things between you two that I wasn't privy to." Brennan gave her husband a gentle hug as she put her head on his shoulder.

"Even though I thought it might be uncomfortable for both of us, I wanted you to read it, Bones. I want to make sure everything is out in the open between us. It made me feel kinda weird that I was a married man reading such an intimate letter from another woman. It almost seemed like I was cheating on you. I felt like you should know what it said." Booth pulled Brennan close and gave her a kiss on top of her head. "I love you, and I want us to share the things that affect us personally. I wouldn't want you to think I was hiding anything from you."

"I know." Brennan patted Booth's knee and smiled impishly. "Would you be surprised if I told you that I was jealous of Hannah, and just pretended to be her friend because I knew, as your friend, that's what I was expected to do? I guess Hannah and I had a lot of things in common…" Brennan giggled at the pretend scowl on Booth's face. "besides you, that is…"

"Actually, I was pretty sure you both were jealous of each other, and for a little while, I kind of enjoyed it." He flinched slightly as his wife playfully jabbed him in the ribs. "What?" Booth grinned as he saw the exasperated look on his wife's face. "I was enjoying the company of two very hot, very smart, very successful women, and both of them wanted me! That was pretty good for my ego for a week or so, until I began to realize what a mess I'd made of things…." He shook his head ruefully. "A man's ego can make him do stupid things, Bones…"

"I know you loved Hannah, Booth, and I suppose I can't really begrudge you too much in that regard. You and I have both loved other people in the past, but we were both fortunate to end up with the person we loved the most eventually." Brennan put her wine glass on the table and embraced her husband. "I hope you realize that you had nothing to do with anything that's happened over the last week...none of it was your fault."

"I know that, Bones...I really do. It was all on that crazy bastard Ahmed. I mean, why use a child to get back at me? That just doesn't make any sense…" Booth shook his head again, thinking about how crazy Durani's idea was.

Brennan reached for her glass again, sipping her wine as she thought about the circumstances of the case. "Well, to begin with, Booth, I think we can both agree that Ahmed Durani was suffering from some sort of severe mental illness. Based on the way he talked about his father's house collapsing, he had probably suffered from PTSD for years without getting any help, and he was quite delusional as well."

"Okay, so he had PTSD. That still doesn't explain why he wanted Hannah to have my kid so he could steal it…" Booth closed his eyes as he sank back into the couch. "He must've known that would never work."

"I think Hannah wanted to have your child because she loved you, Booth. Durani simply decided to use her emotional connection to you to his advantage." Brennan paused, thinking over what had transpired over the week. "Anthropologically speaking, it's possible his upbringing may have inspired part of his plan. In many cultures, a man's standing in society is based on the number of children he has. Ahmed may have thought that stealing the child was a good way to cause you not only pain, but social embarrassment. After listening to everything you said about his failure to perform sexually, he may really have been impotent, and this was going to be his way of having a child of his own...a child he could claim as his own, even if he said he was planning to sell the boy in Thailand. He said he couldn't give Hannah a child, so maybe this was his way of doing so. Unfortunately, his mental illnesses evidently prevented him from thinking rationally. I'm sure the plan made sense to him, even if we'll never completely understand what he was thinking."

"Yeah...I guess we'll never know all of the answers about what Ahmed wanted to do. The whole thing was just so bizarre, you know? I mean, I hadn't thought of Hannah and Ahmed for years, and to have both of them come back into my life at the same time...It's so hard to grasp that. It kind of makes me worried about who else is out there waiting to pounce on me, trying to hurt you or our kids. I wonder if being a deputy director in the FBI has put a big target on my back. Maybe I should just leave the Bureau and find something else to do…" Booth leaned back against the couch again and stared at the ceiling. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder…"

Brennan took her husband's hand in hers. "I don't think you need to look over your shoulder, Booth. I think you need to look straight ahead, toward the future. You have several options available if you want to do something different, and I'll support you in whatever you choose to do, but I think you should wait until you're less emotionally compromised before you make any major decisions about your career."

"That makes sense, Bones. I do like being a Deputy Director more than I thought I would, because I get to mentor the less experienced agents. It seems like I'm pretty good at that." Booth stretched and got up to pour himself another Scotch and another glass of wine for his wife. "I'd like to think I'm an asset to the Bureau, even if I do make Director Stark angry from time to time. He knows I'm good at my job…"

"So it sounds like you've made up your mind to stay with the FBI...at least for the immediate future." Brennan smiled at her husband as he sat down next to her. "I think that's a wise decision. You can always look into other options at a later date."

"Well, I actually have different plans for the immediate future." Booth smirked at Brennan as he took another sip of Scotch. "And since those plans involve you…"

"Oh, really? What if I don't want to be involved in your plans, Booth?" Brennan sipped her wine demurely as she pretended to be annoyed. "Perhaps I have plans of my own…"

"Well, Bones...that's kind of too bad. You see, I've called in sick for tomorrow, and I've called you in sick, too…" Booth laughed, dodging as Brennan tried to hit him with a throw pillow.

"Booth...you called me in sick? I can't believe you were so presumptuous. I have so much work to do! All of the evidence reports about this case have to be finalized and sent to the Department of Justice..." Brennan pretended to pout as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Sorry. You're needed at home instead. We're gonna spend the rest of this evening playing games, and I don't mean Monopoly." Booth twitched his eyebrows at his wife as he began to gently caress her. "Hey, I was thinking...is it weird that we like to play bank robber and bank teller, since your old man used to rob banks?"

Brennan laughed as ran her hand down her husband's muscular chest. "Perhaps I've inherited the genetic predisposition to be a scofflaw, Booth. I did find that I enjoy that game very much. Do you think we can play it again tonight?" She winked slyly at her husband as she squeezed his thigh. "I'm still somewhat encumbered by my sore ankle, so I promise to be somewhat more careful when I restrain you…but I was also thinking about borrowing your handcuffs...maybe this time you can be the robber and I'll be the officer who has to use various interrogation methods on you..."

"Well, that variation does sound like fun…" Laughing, Booth pulled Brennan close as he explained the agenda he had in mind for the next 24 hours. "Yep, we're gonna play some games tonight, and then we're gonna sleep in late tomorrow, and maybe get some more fun and games in tomorrow afternoon before Max and the kids get home…."

"If we play games tonight and tomorrow, we may have to stay home the next day to rest before we go back to work, Booth…." Brennan giggled as Booth nibbled at her ear while his fingers began to explore her curves.

He gave her a sultry chuckle. "And take a day off after that to spend with the kids because we've missed them, right, Bones? And then a day off to rest from that?"

"So what you're saying, Booth, is that we may never go back to work?" She giggled as he lay back on the sofa and pulled her over on top of him.

Booth brushed her hair away from her face as he winked and flashed a dimple at her. "Could be, Bones...could be."

 _This is the end of my story. Thanks for reading..._ _Laura_


End file.
